


What Nathan Knew

by Waylonpark



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Grahamscott for the win, Just take a look and you'll see:)!, M/M, Moby Dick References, Something you could call Caulscott, Turned darker than I thought it would, Whales in general:), jefferscott, no smut i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waylonpark/pseuds/Waylonpark
Summary: In this story, I try to explain Nathan's actions, remaining as authentic and as close to the original events as possible. The death of Rachel Amber still haunts his thoughts in sleepless nights, and the worst thing is him not being able to have someone to talk. Not even Vic, his best friend, his little Queen Bee. The only person making him feel safe is the same one who has made his life so much worse and better and the same time. Mark Jefferson, his mentor, his best friend, the one Nathan has called when he has accidentally given Rachel an overdose, and who has helped him bury her corpse on the junkyard.But not even he knows about Nathan's silent crush for this one guy, always hanging out with Max. Warren Graham, the boy with the deer eyes. How many times has Vic already held Nathan tight, comforting him while getting another anxiety attack or his heart broken?Nathan's life is in pieces, and despite the drugs, these nightmares won't go away, and the lifeless face of Rachel Amber still burns in Nathan's eyes, whispering to his ear. The day Nathan would collapse would come – and it wasn't far away.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody, I'm back with another story I really enjoyed writing :) 
> 
> Nathan Prescott, the boy with the gun and the red SUV, bully and victim at the same time. In "What Nathan Knew" I tried to explain how Nathan could have experienced the events of Life is Strange. There are so many ways of interpreting this story and especially Nathan's character, so I'm really curious if you like my version of our problematic and yet lovable antagonist! :)
> 
> While writing this, I wanted to stick to the actual story as much as possible. I changed a few things now and then, always trying to remain authentic. For me, describing the exact same events from Nathan's perspective was the most important aspect of this story. This also means explaining why he does the things he does in the game, and why.
> 
> The other aspect I wanted to focus on was his unhealthy relationship to Mr. Jefferson. While he is clearly using Nathan, his dad's money and the club parties, he is – at the end of the day – the one who cares the most about him, who supports him and who enjoys being with him. Like the father Nathan never really had.
> 
> So if you're searching for a serious/authentic story about Nathan and Mr. Jefferson, and want to know how Nathan's life got destroyed by him killing Rachel Amber this one evening, then maybe you'll like this story ^_^ 
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading and please excuse my mistakes, since English is not my mother tongue. :)

“Call me Nathan,” he had written back in fifths grade, when they had been asked to write an “interesting and fun” paper about their life. Back in Florida, when everything had been a lot easier. This one sentence had probably been the only interesting thing about his essay. Not that his life had been something interesting _or_ something fun. It had never been. But starting it with a quote of one of the best stories ever written was always a good idea, wasn't it?

Nathan Joshua Prescott, as it was officially written on his birth certificate. For his dad, he was Nathan; for Vic, he was Nate (and sometimes Josh, just to piss him off). He was born on 29 August 1994, in Fort Lauderale, Florida – never expecting to move one day. Back then, him, his sister, his mother and his father had been something one could call a “family”, even though every family had its flaws (and the Prescotts sure did have a _lot_ of flaws). Back when his family hadn't been ripped apart. Back when Nathan hadn't known, hadn't understood the weight on his shoulders, Harry Aaron Prescott's legacy. Oh, how little young Nathan had known that he would be cursing this man one day.

But apart from difficult papers to write and Kris always stealing his favorite books … for him, the summers in Florida had been the warmest and the beaches had been the whitest. Nathan's parents had been rich ever since he could remember, and he had always been the famous and popular kid in school, because he had always had such cool stuff

Kris and him had been close from the beginning. She had been the person comforting him when he had been crying in her arms because their parents had rejected the painting he had drawn for them. One day, Nathan had put one of his artworks on the fridge in one of the kitchens because he had seen some kid's dad doing that on television, and never had he gotten _such_ a fast reaction to one of his actions – within two minutes, his dad had taken it off, telling Nathan he didn't want the adhesive tape to leave any marks on the fridge. It had been one of Nathan's nannies keeping it and telling Nathan it was well done (of course it had been great, there had been his mom and his dad, standing on a _huge_ whale).

It was 2013, Nathan was 19 years old and the days of him sitting in fifths grade, contemplating about his recent “fun” life and painting whales were over. In fact, Nathan hadn't been thinking at all for some time. The last thing he had heard from Kris had been her telling him how her flight had been and how Brazil was – two months ago. The fact that he hadn't been feeling anything at all lately wasn't exactly new, and this pain in his head wasn't, too, but still, Nathan somehow managed to wake up every singe morning, wondering when he would start to feel better, when this one day would come when everything changed, when these nightmares would disappear. He woke up as an empty shell of his self and he fell asleep as one, just before being haunted by these nightmares, which didn't want to end. It had been six months, and it hadn't gotten any better.

Nathan, laying on the bed, trying to force himself to get up, had probably been the main reason for his recent absence in, like, every class. Well, not like anybody seemed to care about that, apart from this one stupid teacher called Ms. Hoida, who had dismissed Nathan from her class back in September, just because he had submitted a shitty write up for his paper project. He should have known that Hayden would suck at this, and Nathan had chosen to ignore the fact that Hayden didn't even know _one_ single novel written by Hemingway, so nobody could blame him. Still, this fucker had somehow managed to dismiss Nathan with that crap, making the school send a letter to Sean. But stupid Ms. Hoida, thinking there was _any_ body caring about Nathan and how he did at Blackwell. Almost endearing. If there was one thing Sean was better at than not giving a fuck about his son, then it was showing Blackwell to which extent he didn't.

“Whatever this fucker did this time, get off Nathan's ass or I'm gonna sue y'all,” was how one could resume Sean's general reactions. Nathan's birthday present had been 1.000 $ and a belated SMS, claiming that Sean hadn't really known what to get him, so Nathan could spend the money on whatever he wanted to. Caring? Not really. But who gave a fuck anyway, Nathan had learned to live with that (at least he had thought so) and this was basically the story of how Nathan could do literally anything without having to fear any consequences. What a life.

As far as he remembered, Kris had gotten him a great shot of a whale jumping out of the water, which was resting in his wallet next to Ahab. When he had been 10, his mother had begun to stay away for weeks, without any of the kids knowing why. With the Prescotts moving to Oregon, his life had started to become shit. It had all started with Sean dismissing his nannies, who had always been some kind of substitute for Nathan's mother, who basically hadn't been there at all. Then, after they had moved, Sean had forced Kris go to boarding school, making Nathan lonelier than he had been before. Without Kris, there had been no one for Nathan. His mother had started to stay away for months, and still, Nathan hadn't had any idea about her whereabouts, and Sean had started to get even busier. Nathan remembered the day he had started to set a date for talking to him. First it had been during the work, then it had been the whole week.

Nathan once had a cat called Ahab, a black, fuzzy, grumpy tomcat. When he had been 16, he had gotten his heart broken for the first time. He had come home one day, finding out that Sean had given Ahab away because he hadn't stopped scratching the pillows. So, Nathan had decided not to talk to him for a month, which had been a pretty pathetic attempt of gaining his attention, since Sean hadn't tried once to make Nathan talk to him again.

It had been in the very same year when Nathan had found out why his mother had always stayed away for this long. Of course Nathan hadn't believed Sean telling him that she had been on vacation, but he hadn't thought that she was sick, too. “Psychotic schizophrenia” Sean had said when Nathan had screamed at him, demanding an answer to what had happened to his mother. Back then, Nathan couldn't have told what had been worse: knowing that his mom had schizophrenia or getting told that Kris had known it all the time. This was followed by Nathan proceeding his month's silence and with Sean not giving a shit, again.

Nathan had never really known her cause of death. It were almost two years now. Nathan had always thought that she might had killed herself or something, but what did he know? He barely knew her. Nathan used to confront Sean about that, but Sean always wanted Nathan to keep his mouth shut. And now, he wanted Blackwell to keep their mouth shut.

About a year and a half ago, Nathan had begun to not give a fuck at all. He had even played a little game, trying to find out when Sean would give him attention, trying to test Principal Wells' limits. Once he had been really drunk, and he had tried to steal the Tobanga, since it radiated a mysterious energy as he thought, and sometimes, he couldn't sleep because he felt like it was watching him, judging him. Of course that idea had turned out to be so fucking stupid Nathan had almost broken his hand, trying to get that huge piece of wood off the ground. It had all ended up with that creep Samuel catching him doing so, and after lighting firecrackers in the boy's and girl's bathroom (which had been absolutely hilarious and unjustly condemned), Blackwell's next letter had landed on the mat (which Sean had chosen to ignore again).

Nobody messed with Nathan. _Nobody_.

Well, Nathan surely knew he was a piece of shit, and he probably deserved all of these punishments, but he wasn't dumb. They told Sean they wanted Nathan to get medical help, they wanted to get rid of him. Of course they did, Nathan couldn't blame them for that, but if there was something Nathan wasn't, then it was sick, fucking _schizophrenic_ like his mother. He already got pills and shit, and if he wouldn't skip it, he would go to Dr. Bill, letting him analyze him and pay that dumbass, who knew nothing about Nathan. Nobody knew shit about him. Except for one man.

“Rott” was what a fucked up drug dealer had decided to call him. Not that much of a bad name, but still – who the fuck named his clients after fucking _dogs_. Frank had been more fun to be around when he had been betting on dog fights. Now, after his inspiration or whatthefuckever, he had become such a moralizer. At least he was still pumping drugs, so Nathan could proceed with his side job – selling the drugs again, cut down with laxatives. Nathan didn't really know why exactly he was doing that, since he could buy all the fucking dope Frank got, but maybe he was bored. Since his mother's death, Nathan had literally felt nothing at all. He was bored and lethargic, feeling like a stupid sloth sometimes, and apart from photographing he hadn't any hobbies.

Thinking about Frank Bowers, Nathan didn't really get around thinking of Rachel Amber. Rachel fucking Amber, the reason for Nathan's never-ending nightmares. It hadn't been that much of a long time, about six months. Still, if felt like it was yesterday. She had been queen of Blackwell; everybody had treated her with respect, even Vic. She had used to chill with these skater potheads. Nathan had neither crushed on her nor had he cared about her, but maybe that had been the reason she had become his own kind of project. The project he had failed. Since that one night when Nathan had fucked up horribly, he had begun to get nightmares including Rachel Amber and her dead face, looking at him with an empty stare, saliva running down her cheek, and skin pale as death. Nathan thought – no, Nathan _knew_ that this had to be the very night he had started to lose his mind.

There were many proofs of Nathan going insane, but apart from him taking pills like a fucking junkie ever since that day and sometimes hearing her voice, not being sure if it was the wind or the heating or whatever, there was the fact that Nathan couldn't stop photographing girls. Was he already insane oder just passionate? He didn't know. The only thing he _knew_ was, that there were these mysterious first seconds of the girl waking up and realizing that she neither did know where she was nor what was happening right now. The very fucking seconds this punk bitch Chloe Price hadn't given him when she had woken up in Nathan's room, drugged and squatting in a corner. Was she a good model? No. Was it one of Nathan's best works? Definitely not. Did he fucking care?

It had all started with a normal party and Nathan (wasted, once again), flashing his money everywhere, and this bitch couldn't stop talking about Rachel Amber and how she was going to find her. He hadn't managed to make her shut up, so he had drugged her and taken her to his room, when she had suddenly woken up and broken his lamp as she had got up. Apart from being the shittiest and shortest session ever and Mark reaming Nathan's ass because of that mistake, he had witnessed her stealing his fucking money, too. How could someone like Rachel hang out with such a brat like Chloe Price?

She was lucky he hadn't had his gun, because if so, she would've been dead by now, and her and Rachel would live happily ever after in fucking heaven. Back when Nathan had gotten his gun, Mark had yelled at him for being so stupid. “In this state of yours, anything can happen,” he had claimed. – “In what fucking state?” Nathan had replied, even though he had known what he had meant. He wasn't stable, he knew that. But that was why he was taking these shitty pills, right? “I won't be able to save your ass once you actually shoot somebody, and I don't have time to help you burying another corpse, Nathan.” That hurt, but so did some of Mark's words.

Mark Jefferson, world-famous photographer and his very own mentor. Nathan owned him big time. It was Mark, who had helped him bury Rachel's corpse at midnight, who had been with him when Nathan had driven to the junkyard and had let Rachel's corpse disappear. The junkyard, Mark's idea – a place too obvious for the people, especially Chloe, to search for Rachel. It had been pouring and Nathan had caught a cold, and it had been the most terrible thing he had ever done in his life apart from killing Rachel Amber. Mark Jefferson, the only person who understood Nathan's dark taste of art and photography, understood his passion for monochrome films and darkest thoughts. He let him be part of his visions and he saw a lot of potential in Nathan. The man who had changed Nathan's life, his idol he could look up to. Never had he met someone as mysterious and dangerous as Mark Jefferson, but then again … it was the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a great secret in him, as Ishmael would say. And Mark sure had a lot of secrets hidden in his Dark Room.

He was a genius, he was the man Nathan always wanted to be. Powerful, talented, passionate, charming … sexy. And he would defend him, no matter what. 


	2. Nitroglycerine

MONDAY

 

“It's cool Nathan … Don't stress, you're okay, bro. Just count to three,” Nathan spoke to himself as he entered the girl's bathroom.

 _One_.

He took a deep breath as he felt his knees shaking. His hands were cold and sweaty; he swallowed, looking into the mirror. His cheeks burned with excitement, while the rest of his face was white as snow. _They were just joking around,_ he thought as he let his gaze wander over the doors. Nobody there, good. Some girl seeing him like that, hyperventilating because of some guys fooling around, was the last thing Nathan needed. He was the king of Blackwell, and everybody knew that.

“Don't be scared, you own this school,” he said to himself, starting to feel a bit better, “if I wanted, I could blow it up. You're the boss.” That's right. He was the boss, and there was no Hayden, or anybody else, who could mess with him.

 _Two_.

They had been joking around, nothing more. They didn't know shit and it was just some phrase Hayden had said. It was a phrase he could've said to anybody. “Nathan Prescott, always getting his things straight … or not so straight.” It was a joke and everybody had laughed, including Nathan, then Taylor had started speaking of the End of the World party on Thursday evening. Nothing more. A fucking joke. Nathan inhaled deeply, trying to avoid the thought of Hayden knowing. Knowing _it,_ knowing everything. After he had said that, Nathan's heart had started to race, and he had felt cold sweat of shame wetting his back, shorty before standing up and claiming that he needed to use the bathroom, and – to make matters worse – he had seen this punk bitch following him the down the hallway.

Hayden didn't knew shit about Nathan. Nobody knew, and nobody suspected a thing. Everything was ok. There was nothing Nathan had to worry about. Nathan took out his pills and swallowed two of them. Then he looked up.

 _Three_.

“So what do you want?” Nathan snarled when the girl with the blue hair and the tatts entered the room.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say,” she said. Nathan didn't give a fuck about her step-ass and about that stupid expression. The girl checked if they were alone, then looked at him sternly.

“Now, let's talk bidness–“

“I got nothing for you,” Nathan hissed, but this bitch proceeded to piss him off. Nathan wasn't scared of her, he wasn't scared of anybody since he got that gun.

“Wrong. You got hella cash,” she said, looking at Nathan who was observing her through the dirty mirror. Now, Nathan finally remembered her name: Price … Chloe Price, Rachel Amber's personal bull dyke. Did she really think she could scare him? Who on earth could scare a Prescott? All of what she was wearing, her tatts included, were worth what Sean would call loose change.

“That's my family, not me.” Why did nobody seem to understand that.

“Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here,” she said like she was fucking Sherlock Holmes, then she got close to him, looking at him with that steady gaze she thought she could scare him with and make him wet his pants like she had almost done, laying in his room, whining. Oh, what a beautiful yet pathetic sight. Nathan opened his mouth, ready to roast that bitch, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain penetrating his head, making him slouch his shoulders. _Fuck!_ Not again! Fuck, that hurt.

“Ugh,” Nathan said, trying to interrupt Chloe's pathetic attempt of threatening him, but without her noticing. The pain got worse and Nathan held his breath, trying to focus on something different than Hayden suspecting he was gay or Chloe screaming at him. But without success. He clenched his fists as his headache got worse.

“I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!” Chloe screamed. That bitch didn't just say that.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” Nathan yelled as he got up and gnashed his teeth, feeling his rage burn in his stomach. This slut knew _nothing_ about him, and yet she decided to continue fucking around with him. His heart was racing when he approached her, staring at her in an outburst of rage.

“Ugh, sh-shit,” Nathan mumbled as he shrieked, feeling another wave of throbbing pain in his head.

 _They know it!,_ he heard a voice say. _It wasn't a joke and you know it._ Stop! Someone needed to make this stop! Nathan held his breath as he began to stagger, trying to keep his eyes opened, which suddenly felt like he hadn't sleep for years. Then a smirk, blue hair showing under the black cap, folded arms, screwed up eyes, looking at him in a mixture of curiosity and victory.

Before realizing, Nathan had been aiming his gun at Chloe, and her expression changed within seconds.

“Where'd you get that? … What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” she stuttered as Nathan had pushed her to the wall, putting his gun on her stomach.

“Don't EVER tell me what to do,” Nathan screamed as he punched against the wall, scaring Chloe to death, “I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!”

 _Fuck_ , his head felt like it was going to explode, like nitroglycerine, ready to blow up. Nathan swallowed, everything was so blurry, and he needed to concentrate on not passing out. His hands were sweaty and suddenly, his gun felt like a hot stone laying between his fingers. His head started spinning, and he noticed his hands shaking. _Shit_ , he was actually going to pass out …!

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs,” Chloe whispered, and Nathan tried to focus on her eyes, sparkling with fear as she felt Nathan pressing his gun more and more against her stomach. _This_ , Nathan thought, _this is it_. This magical expression you couldn't give me back then, you twee bitch. It felt so wrong yet so good, knowing that her life was laying in his hands, knowing that it was him who had the power to decide about her future, about her death. Nobody could control him, not Sean, not Blackwell, not Chloe. He looked at Chloe, tearing up as she begged for him putting away that gun, holding her shaking hands up as if it would help, and it got quieter and quieter as the the noises started to fade away. God, this was so much better than a girl who was drugged, better than any photoshoot Mark and him had ever done.

Suddenly, he heard something clink, followed by the jarring sound of the fire alarm.

“What the …?” he gasped, before Chloe got up and pushed him aside as she fled and disappeared behind the door. Nathan, still in shock, mechanically grabbed his gun and ran out of the bathroom.

“Another shitty day …!”

What the actual hell just happened? _Shit_. Nathan, who had been running down the hallway, slowed his pace as he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. Another attack, just in the worst moment ever. These things, Nathan thinking he would pass out and his head burning like it was set on fire, weren't new. In fact, Nathan was suffering since, at least, one year from these weird symptoms. Was it because of the pills? Well, Nathan once had accidentally mixed them up, but Diazepam and Risperidone didn't make this much of a difference, did they? Whatever, who cared anyway, right? They helped with Nathan's regular panic attacks, making everything blurry and … not that fucked up as his life actually was.

“Nathan,” he heard a familiar, smooth voice say and someone grabbed his arm from behind, “are you okay? Where have you been?”

He turned around in confusion, seeing Mark Jefferson looking at him, astonished. Mark looked perfect as always, while he himself looked like shit, once again. He swallowed uncomfortably.

“Nowhere. Why?” he said grimly.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, and – are you sweating?” he asked as he intended to put a hand on Nathan's forehead, which he slapped away.

“Stop that,” he said, annoyed. _God_ , sometimes Mark acted like his fucking mother.

“Well, at least you don't have fever. What's wrong?” – “Nothing.”

Mark sighed, then his voice turned deep. “Six o'clock, don't forget it, we need to talk,” he said firmly. The way Mark's facial expression changed within seconds was impressive and frightening at the same time.

“I _know_ , Mark” Nathan said impatiently, “I haven't forgotten it.”

“That's good to hear. Now, how many times have I told you to stick to 'Mr. Jefferson' when we're in public?”

“Pardon, _Mr. Jefferson_ ,” Nathan hissed. He hated it when Mark ordered him to do something, it reminded him of his stupid father. Mark intended to say something as it suddenly got quiet. The fire alarm had been turned off, and Mark took a look at his watch.

“Okay, I have to go, see you this evening,” he said busily before turning around one last time, “oh, and will you _please_ do your back a favor and stop walking around like a stray cat? A good posture wouldn't kill you.” Then his lips formed something which appeared to be a smile, this smug, self-righteous smile he always formed when he thought he had just said something clever, something which was _too_ great not to be shared.

Nathan pulled a face as he watched Mark disappear in the crowd. Then he approached the exit for a smoke. Mark could be a jerk sometimes, but _god_ , Nathan was so much more of a dick. Mark actually cared about him, even though it didn't seem so sometimes, and Nathan couldn't stop giving him attitude. But he had always done. Why? He didn't really know. Maybe because he felt insecure talking to Mark. He was very talented, and he had actual visions and he was an actual genius when it comes to photographing, and Nathan was just … Nathan. A fucked up teenager who was hardly taller than Vic and most of the girls, and who just appeared to be rich.

Nathan rubbed his eyes; it wasn't even lunch and he was already done. Wherever Hayden was, he could prepare for some serious shit. Nobody messed with Nathan, and especially not him. He was just some dude who had absolutely needed to become a member of the Vortex Club, but couldn't afford a third pair of jeans. God, this fucking school was so pissing Nathan off. But there was another thing which complicated the whole shitty situation: Blackwell's nun, Kate Marsh, showing off her glorious partying skills and making out with the whole Vortex Club. Not that this clip was a bad thing, no, quite the reverse: It was the best thing Nathan had seen in ages, and it definitely had sweetened his everyday life on Blackwell, but who could've known that this bitch actually remembered some parts of that night? When Nathan and Vic had been witnessing Kate's gospel and putting it online so everybody could be her apostle, they should've known that there would be at least some people doubting that story. Not that much of a good idea, and in the end the reason for Mark's and his meeting this evening. It was the first time a girl actually remembered hearing someone, and if Kate started to continue remembering …

 

Exiting the school and breathing fresh air made Nathan feel a little less sick than before. He lighted a cig as he walked by another of these “Missing Person” posters which made him want to rip this shit off and burn it. Rachel Amber was fucking dead, and she was never coming back. Witnessing someone's death you have been responsible for had to be the worst thing you could go through. It was 6 months, and Nathan hadn't slept through one single night. One, maybe two nightmares a week had gotten normal, by now. Sometimes, Nathan was the one killing her, then again he was the one getting murdered. They all came in different shapes and variations, but the topic never changed. Injecting her that one final dose of anesthesia, seeing her struggling to breath, trying to talk to her, trying to calm her … to calm a dying person. This had inured Nathan, had made him feel less than before; had left a mark. Nathan wasn't the same after all of this. And he felt like he was slowly dying, too.

If you asked Vic, Zach and Hayden, basically every club member, they'd be telling you that Nathan's first kiss was with Vic. But the first lips that had touched Nathan's had been the dead ones of Rachel Amber, cold flesh getting pressed on his warm mouth, trying to give her oxygen.

Nathan would never forget his first kiss.

As Nathan was walking across the campus, he saw Mrs. Grant's gaze resting on him while talking to that pedophile Samuel. She had wanted him to sign that stupid petition, but to be honest, Nathan didn't give a fuck about these cameras. He got enough problems, and if that paranoid creep wanted to observe Blackwell's students while taking a shit, then why the fuck not. Nathan took a drag on his cig, then he averted his gaze.

“Fuck y'all,” he said before stopping all of sudden because that bitch Brooke thought it was funny when she was letting her drone fly just above Nathan's head. He looked at her with a frown, seeing her giggling. Did that virgin really think Nathan gave a shit about her and that stupid drone? To be fair, letting the drone attack people was in deed funny. Nathan always liked that thing, and he had thought about stealing it, but he had ended up buying it since Brooke had bought, like, the cheapest model you could get. Him and Zach had fooled around with that thing, but after a few hours he had got tired of it. Then he had started attacking various teachers, including Mark, and Brooke had been suspected of being responsible for that, which was pretty funny.

Also, Brooke had a crush on Warren Graham. Nathan blushed, which he hated himself for this, then he took another deep drag. Warren didn't give two shits about her though. Like she had a chance.

Suddenly, Hayden called his name, and Nathan turned around, seeing him waving at him.

“What's up, bro, you look like shit,” Hayden said, faking a caring smile, “wasn't there any caviar left on your pla–”

 _“_ Call me a faggot once again and I'm gonna blow your fucking ass off,” Nathan yelled as he grabbed Hayden's collar, staring at him.

“What the …? Shit, Nathan,” Hayden gasped, looking around, intimidated, “I never said … Come on, I, was joking, I know Vic and you–“

“Vic's my best friend and you better get the fuck out of my face, you little cunt,” Nathan yelled, looking at him steadfastly. Even though he was smaller than him, he knew that the people thought he was creepy and unpredictable; also, he had a firm grip. Hayden swallowed as he tried to free himself out of Nathan's grasp.

“Come on, people are looking,” Hayden hissed, “c-come on, Nathan, this is just embarass– FUCK!”

Hayden cried out with pain as he fell on his knees after Nathan had rammed his fist on his nose. Courtney shrieked as Hayden's nose started to bleed, staining his shirt

“What the …?! _Shit_ , man! What the FUCK is wrong with you?!” Hayden yelled, holding his nose and smearing his blood all over his mouth.

“Nobody messes with me! NOBODY!” – “Take your fucking pills, _psycho_!”

Then, the stabbing pain in his head. Again. Nathan looked around while making his way back to the dormitories, holding his knuckles. _Shit_ , that had hurt …! He needed a shower since he was sweating like a pig, and he needed some rest, otherwise he would collapse. The people were looking at him, whispering behind his back; gossiping. Everybody thought he was sick, but they all knew shit. He wasn't sick! His mother had been, yes, but not him. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?!

His phone vibrated as he got a message from Vic.

 

'I GOT PAINT ALL OVRE MY CASHMERE JACKET FML' – Vic

 

'yo yo vic

no paint can ruin a qween u kno' – Nathan

 

'thanx ur so cute (ToT)

u wanna come over & smoke em peace pipe?

could be ready @ 5' – Vic

 

'thx but im feeling like shit' – Nathan

 

'txt me if u need me k

BTW hayden sexted me

ill show u later lol' – Vic

 

'ill do babe

this twat don't touch u or he gonna fukin die' – Nathan

 

'he wont coz hes scared of u lmao' – Vic

 

'he better be

TTYL' – Nathan

 

Nathan smiled thinking about Vic. God, how he loved his little drama queen. She was the only person in his age who really understood him and whom he could talk with. She was his best friend, his queen, his love. His first friend when they had moved to Oregon. Now that Vic texted Nathan about Hayden, he remembered pranking Juliet by making her think Zach had been sexting Dana, though in reality, Zach had been sexting Vic. It was such a blast trolling that idiot. “What are you wearing?” had to be the stupidest sexting phrase ever, and Nathan and Vic had been bursting out in laughter when he had written that. All of that had been Vic's idea; god, she was such an evil bish!

When talking about Dana, Logan had acted so fucking weird, making Nathan wonder if there was something going on between them, and eventually there had been some rumors concerning Dana being pregnant and shit, but unfortunately, Nathan had never found out. Shit, Dana being fucking _pregnant_ would've been sooo much better than that nun's porn vid!

Suddenly, a voice interrupted Nathan's thoughts.

“Nathan, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Nathan turned around as he saw Wells walking over to him. He looked serious and for a moment, Nathan feared that Wells had found out that it had been him spraying “prcpl wells is a fckn pisshead”.

“After the fire alarm, a girl talked to me about a serious matter I wanted to ask you about, and I'm really sorry to bring this up since I'm certain this is an unfounded accusation,” he said uncomfortably. Nathan glanced at him, annoyed. Could he _fucking_ not? Nathan felt like shit and needed a shower right now, so he didn't have time for this shit. Whatever it was, Sean would take care of it.

“I'm sorry, I'm beating around the bush, again. Now, this girl said she has seen you holding a gun in the girl's bathroom.”

Nathan froze, staring at him. _Shit shit shit._ If Sean would hear about this, he would think Nathan had went nuts, and after finding out that this wasn't the first gun Nathan had purchased using his account, he would send him back home, expecting him to join the family's business. It was a GB 17, 9 mm Pistol, Nathan would find this baby never again …!

Nathan swallowed. “Who–“

“I want you to know that I absolutely think that this is a serious accusation and I've already said to Max– ugh, I, I mean, t-to the student, that you're a responsible, well-respected student and I warned her about the consequences of her words. I just wanted you to know about this.”

Max. Where had he heard that name before? Hadn't Mark once told about this chick?

“Thank you, Principal Wells, I really appreciate that. It was right, I was in the girls bathroom, for I was having some kind of nausea attack and I needed to go somewhere, so yeah,” Nathan said, and Well's expression changed, “maybe I disgusted her since I couldn't vomiting and I think there was blood and some food coming up, too, and–“

“Thank you, Nathan, that is enough information. Now, I knew you would deal with this like a grown-up, and of course, I won't inform your father about it, since I truly believe this accusation isn't veracious at all.”

Then, Wells smiled at him awkwardly as he went away. Nathan grinned; he hadn't even told him not to smoke on the school's campus. Being a Prescott was a fucking curse, but damnit, it got its perks. … Max … Max … that wasn't even a girl's name, what a dyke she must've been.

It was near the lot when Nathan suddenly heard someone call her name. Nathan, lost in thoughts again, looked up in surprise as he saw a girl walking across the lot. So this was her! Max Caulfield. Nathan gnashed his teeth, preparing for confronting that bitch. Walking toward her, Nathan finally remembered what Vic had said about her. Lame, average, makes shitty selfies with her polaroid, trying to impress Mark whom she was clearly flirting with. According to Vic, Mark didn't give a shit about her. Well, Mark didn't give a shit about Vic either, but since Vic seemed to pretty much crush on Mark, Nathan didn't tell her, of course. Max was heading for a shitty car and Nathan was, too, when suddenly, he slowed his pace as he flushed.

 

There he was.

 


	3. Boy of Glass

Seeing Warren, Nathan's anger had completely disappeared, turning it into a mixture of excitement and butterflies, flatting their wings in Nathan's stomach, making him smile quietly even though he tried to resist. His knees started to shake when he turned his head around, seeing Max. Nathan jumped and hid behind one of the cars, where he could observe him with silent fascination.

As always.

He swallowed as he flushed, and he dried his sweaty hands on his pants. Warren Daniel Graham, born November 10, 1996, making Nathan more than two years older than him and about two inches tinier. Sweet 17. For being that young, Warren had a little (or much) more muscles than Nathan, and apart from Nathan's “bad posture”, as Mark would say it, Warren was taller than him, too.

Warren … the other half of reasons that kept him awake in the middle of the night, his secret desire nobody but Vic knew about, as unreachable to him as Moby Dick to Captain Ahab, and yet they belonged together as the old man and the sea. Nathan's heart hurt every time he saw him walking down the hallway, talking to that girl or Brooke, not giving a shit about Nathan. Well, who could blame him? Nathan didn't give a shit about himself, either. He had eyes like a fawn, hazel and with long lashes, not deigning to look at Nathan as he was passing by, smelling the fragrance of Warren's deodorant he somehow loved applying way too much. Nathan smiled gently; Warren had a lot to learn.

He was wearing his dark shirt with the blue stripe on it. Nathan knew all of his shirts, but the one with the box on it, saying “meow”, was his favorite one. He was leaning against a shitty, blue car which was probably his own. Its license plate was called “THXFLS”, which reminded Nathan of the old tv series called “The X-Files”. He had used to watch it excitedly, and he was hoped Warren was into that stuff, too. Nathan wondered if he would ever find himself sitting next to him, driving somewhere. Maybe far away from Arcadia Bay.

But reality was different. Nathan took a deep breath as he saw Max fooling around with him, and Warren, smiling clumsily, trying to convince her to “go ape” with her. God, if Warren knew how much Nathan loved these films. … He probably wouldn't care.

“Make sure you watch 'Cannibal Holocaust',” Nathan suddenly heard Warren say, smiling shyly. No he didn't …! Warren didn't knew one of Nathan's favorite films of all time! So brutal and dark. Maybe, maybe Nathan could show Warren his film wall, he was sure there'd be some Warren would like, too! … Then Nathan remembered: Nobody liked him at Blackwell, and Warren probably didn't even know his first name.

They were seeing his name and his money, but they didn't see the boy behind it. … Nathan sighed. Who could blame them for this. Nathan didn't even know himself if there was someone behind it.

“No fucking way I'll watch that! My mind is twisted enough,” Max said, outraged. _Oh boo hoo, little bitch, then maybe you should continue snitching on other people instead of wasting Warren's time._

Nathan couldn't hold it anymore. The anger Warren had washed away had crawled into Nathan's stomach again. Why did he care about this bitch? She was lame as fuck and Warren shouldn't waste his time with giving a shit about her bitching about his movies, when there would be so much cool stuff awaiting him, if he only … only …

“Max Caulfield, right?” Nathan heard himself say as he had stood up and begun heading toward them. He froze, not believing that he had actually done this. Warren looked at him in surprise, but it wasn't that much of a _good_ surprise, more like a pretty shitty surprise. The sort of surprise you had when someone had brought you an Xbox one when you already had an Xbox one s (Vic was such a sweetheart though, but sometimes, she really put her foot in it).

 _God_ , his fluffy brown hair was killing him. No …! Nathan held his breath, he needed to stay focused on Max.

“You're one of the Jefferson's photo groupies,” he claimed.

Shit, Warren looked at him, not knowing what to await. Shit, shit, shit. Why couldn't this bastard stop looking at Nathan? Without thinking, Nathan lifted his hands and pushed Warren away. His shirt was so soft. Nathan felt his headache crawling up his spine. Shit, not _now_!

“I'm one of his students,” Max said. No fucking shit.

“Whatthefuckever,” Nathan snarled, “I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms. You best tell me what you saw. Now!”

She looked at him sternly, trying to cover up her fear. _That's right, you better shit your pants because I'm not messing around._ She awkwardly glanced at him, taking ages to respond. Looked like she was trying to figure put what she needed to say in order to calm Nathan, not making him any angrier.

“Answer me, bitch!” Nathan ordered, trying to avoid Warren's gaze. _Shit_ , now it was the back of his head that hurt like hell. _Shit shit shit_. He needed to take his medicine right now! But then, Warren would know Nathan was so much more of a creep than he appeared to be.

“Nothing but a butterfly,” Max replied with that cheeky smile. Did she want to impress Warren? No fucking way.

“You're full of shit,” Nathan hissed, “I'd respect you more if you'd told me the truth.” He clenched his fists, as his dark black anger was crawling through his body, crippling his mind, making him numb and fill with rage.

“I don't need your respect,” Max hissed. Sneaky bitch. Maybe not as dumb as Nathan had thought. Time to play the family card.

“You're clueless. You have no idea _who_ I am or _what_ I can do.” Everybody knew that, and Max better learned fast where she belonged.

“Actually, I have a pretty good idea of who you are.”

“Do not analyze me! I pay people for that!” Nathan shouted, clenching his fist and feeling the urge to punch that cunt in her stupid face, directly on her _cute_ freckles. Everybody – _everybody_ – was trying to lecture him, to “take a look behind the facade”. Sean, Dr. Bill, Wells, Mark and all of the other teachers, that punk ass Chloe and now her. Everything was fine, more or less, everybody knew that they shouldn't mess with him, and he wouldn't let that twee bitch ruin it.

 _Ugh_! Another stab in the head; the sounds got blurry. Nathan tried not to sag at his knees.

“Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield,” Nathan said, intending to go get a shower and some rest before collapsing right in front of Warren.

“Take a step back, Nathan Prescott,” Max ordered. – “Oh man, you're telling me what to do?"

This is what you get for snooping, fucking snitch. – _Shit …!_ Another attack; Nathan oppressed the urge of holding his head. He needed to go _now_. He held his breath as he felt cold sweat running down his neck. He was actually going to collapse …! Attacks like a fucking thunder strike were penetrating his head, and got worse every second.

Then again, cold rage: Why did Warren care about that stupid cunt? She was such a lame, ugly, annoying, fake–

“Get away from her, dude!”

I an outburst of rage, Nathan wasted his last ounce of strength, headbutting Warren.

“Hey, leave him alone!”

“Nobody tells me what to do!” Nathan yelled, grabbing Max' neck. Oh, her sweet eyes staring at him, frozen in terror as he was suffocating her. Christ, it felt so good burying his thumb in her soft neck, pressing on her larynx, hearing her groan.

Rachel's death had fucked him up. He knew it, while he was choking her. Maybe he _was_ sick.

“Not my parents, not the Principal, or that whore in the bathroom,” he growled.

“Stop that, right now!” Max screamed, trying to defend her little ass. Then she managed to put her hand on Nathan's cheek, and he cried out and pushed her aside when she scratched his face. Suddenly, a white SUV stopped right in front of them, and as Nathan looked up, he couldn't believe what he saw. There she was! The stupid hoe from the bathroom, picking up Max and saving her ass. Lucky bastard, next time he would kick her ass!

“No way! You again?”

But before Nathan could manage to follow her, he heard Warren scream, “Go, go! I got this!” Then, he felt a sharp pain in his back as both of the smashed on the ground.

_Why?!_

In a fit of anger, Nathan took a swing and punched Nathan in his beautiful face. Curved red lips got pinched, and big eyes squinted within seconds as his knuckles touched them.

_Why won't you like me?!_

Warren screamed as Nathan's fist stroke his head, twice, three times, four times. Nathan had lost his mind. Everything was a blur, the only thing he felt was his throbbing head, spinning around like a fucking carousel, and Warren's soft face under his knuckles.

_Why won't you understand?!_

Then, Nathan mechanically got up, kicking Chloe's door as she was about to drive off. “Get your punk asses out of here now! Don't even try to run! Nobody messes with me! NOBODY!”

Then he turned around, blinded with rage. There he was, holding his bleeding face. Nathan froze.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! What had he done …!

“F-Fuck, Warren, I–“

“Ugh, d-don't you dare to t-touch her again, psycho!” Warren yelled, wiping off the blood of his chapped lips. His right eye was blue and green. Nathan's heart broke, seeing him like this. Nathan gasped, this couldn't be real …! He dizzily looked at his knuckles, glowing red, and he suddenly felt like puking.

Then, Warren ran away, leaving Nathan alone in the lot, feeling like shit. Great. Now, Warren _knew_ who the fuck he was. A pathetic piece of shit, a little twat with anger issues and shitload of psychological problems. Sometimes, his body felt like glass, transparent to everybody, exposing his racing heart and his sick, dark thoughts. And then, doing these things to Warren, made it splinter, making huge crack shivering through his crystalline bones.

Nathan knew that it was full of breaches, and he wondered how much it would take to make his body shatter into pieces.

Nathan swallowed some pills as he started heading towards the dormitories, trying to suppress the sudden urge of crying and puking at the same time, when suddenly, he got another attack. He cried out as he was holding his head, but this time, it was different – the sharp pain in his forehead, it had gotten worse, and Nathan gasped, trying not to fall on his knees. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why now!?_ Was that the result of headbutting Warren?

Slowly, it got quiet, and all Nathan heard was a high-pitched note, penetrating his head. Nathan screamed while holding his ears, desperately trying not to fall over. Was there a voice? Or had Nathan now started getting totally insane? His cheeks were glowing and a hot flash was overcoming him, as he suddenly froze: he wasn't able to breath anymore.

Then everything got dark, and the last thing he felt was his head smashing on the ground.

 

_It was cold. The dazzling light of the huge lamps was shining on him, making him sweat. He wasn't able to breath. He wanted to be quiet, but he couldn't stop the gasping. Her sticky hair was wet, soaked with vomit and saliva, laying lifelessly on the ground, hiding her blank eyes. They had been opened for some time. Dried tears were covering her face. Her mouth was chapped and its corners torn by her screaming. Soft hands were laying on a cold ground, fingers were sticking up with bitten nails on it, covered by dirty black nail polish. He said her name. Once, twice, three times, four times, five times. But she didn't respond._

_“No,” he mouthed to himself as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her body, “no, no, no, no, no–“ Hot tears were running down glowing cheeks, falling on his fingers, which he buried in her black shirt. He ripped it off, then he checked her heartbeat as he laid his ears on dead flesh, trying to listen to an organ which remained silent. He couldn't concentrate; he heard his blood rush in his ears. Silence. It was suffocating him. He could hear his blood pouring through his veins as he checked again. No answer. Again._

_Then he leaned over and pressed his lips on hers, and his first kiss smelled like saliva, vomit and tears. He almost broke his fingers, trying to press on her chest … but nothing happened._

_“Don't, don't, no, no, no,” he stuttered as a cry escaped his chapped lips, “no, no, no, this can't be, fuck, fuck , FUCK, don't do that to me!”_

_Silence._

_“Wake up!” he cried as he collapsed on top of her cold chest, struggling to breath. “Wake up …! Wake up! Wake up!!!”_

 

 _“_ Wake up! _”_

This voice. It sounded familiar. Rachel? Was it her? _Oh god, Rachel. How long had you been away? Half a year, at least. Oh Rachel, don't you dare to scare me this much once a time_. He knew she would come back. He knew it wasn't the end.

“W-where have you been?” Nathan said dizzily. God, his head was spinning. Then he noticed his head hurting more and more, resulting in a sharp pain in the back of his head. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing somebody lean over him, but he couldn't recognize who it was. The sun was dazzling and he needed to squint his eyes. He lifted his hand and covered his eyes from the sun rays.

“Can you hear me? You're bleeding … Are you, are you in pain? Shall I call the ambulance …?”

God, this voice. So soft, so fragile, just like an angel.

Then, the rest of his body finally woke up, and Nathan noticed himself laying on the ground. Right. Poor Warren had gotten beaten up by him. Then he had passed out. His head was throbbing and it kind of felt injured. Nathan removed his hands to see who had been taking care of him. Slowly, his eyes began to focus.

No fucking way.

“Get the _fuck_ off me, bitch,” Nathan hissed as he looked into Kate's swollen eyes, staring at him. Her face was puffy from crying, and her nose was glowing like the one of Rudolph the fucking reindeer. Her hair was greasy, and it was hanging down her forehead like a curtain. It was the lamest brown Nathan had ever seen. Nathan shivered with disgust. How could someone have a crush on her? Even though Nathan didn't crush on any of the Blackwell girls, he knew that Vic, for example, was hot as fuck, so why couldn't she be more like her? But then again, nobody could beat his queen.

“I said _get off me_ , you twee bitch, not interested in some church porn,” Nathan yelled as he stood up, making Kate jump aside. In spite of swaying like a drunk and almost falling over again, he managed to regain his balance.

“Are you lost?” he asked as he saw her red eyes glaring at him.

“Somebody made me do that, and you _know_ it,” Kate suddenly said while trying so hard to sound firmly. Jesus, Nathan wouldn't be this much of a dick when she would just stop threaten the plans of Mark and him.

“Shut your dirty mouth. Nobody did _shit_ to you. Bet you enjoyed it, getting high and shit, showing Jesus what's what,” Nathan laughed. “Now piss off.”

Kate's eyes turned red again and she wiped off some tears. God, it was almost too easy.

“You'll be sorry one day,” she cried, then she ran away, almost tripping over a stick laying around. What a fucking crybaby.

Nathan held his head. Christ, she really got a talent for getting on his fucking nerves. He took a look at the phone, trying to know how long he'd been asleep, just to remember Vic asking him to hang out. Then he left, lightning a cig, thinking about the second time passing out this month.

The same dream as always. But thankfully not that long.

When would this stop?

 

“Nate, did you finally enter a photo? You have so much good ones,” Vic said, taking a drag on her cig. She had recently bought a package of Insignia, the best brand, as Nathan and her thought. Her lipstick left a red stain on her cig, which was pretty hot. He lifted his arm and laid it on her pillows, then she rested her head on his shoulders, cuddling up to him, thoughtfully taking another drag. Laying on her bed, hugging and smoking, made them appear like a couple, and almost everybody at Blackwell thought so, too. Of course they weren't, but it was fun tricking them into thinking they were. Nathan closed his eyes, listening to Édith Piaf's “La Vie En Rose” which was playing on her speaker. The soft smoke was surrounding them, mixing with Édith's smooth voice. The cigs were tasting good, as well.

“No, I don't give a fuck about this contest,” Nathan replied. Vic rolled her big eyes. Sometimes, she reminded him of Twiggy, and every time Nathan told her that, she denied, but he was sure she secretly wanted to look like her.

“We only have time 'till Wednesday,” she said, lost in thought, “I hope Mr. Jefferson picks my entry though. Sisco with him would be fabulous. It's such a shame that you don't have class with him, he's so chill, and handsome, and hot, ohmygod. He's like, the man you would marry, you know? I can't decide wether I wanna go on dates and shit with him or instantly get fucked by him.” Vic's lips formed a sassy smile.

“Jeez, shut your whore mouth, you _slut_ ,” Nathan said, and Vic giggled.

“You think he's into me?” she asked seductively. Nathan thought about that for a while. Mark didn't seem to crush on her. In fact, Mark never really crushed on anyone, actually. Something Nathan hadn't thought about, yet. Mark always concentrated on his images, he craved for nice shots and not for love or sex. At least this is what Nathan had noticed. Even though Rachel had tried to hit on him, he had denied her offers, but not because of her being 17 back then, but because of him just not being interested. But to be honest, Nathan was quite sure that Mark didn't care about Vic. He hadn't even chosen her as a potential model – something Nathan was, of course, very happy about! He wouldn't know what to do if Mark decided to frame her. But Mark thought she was too pretentious, too posed, too snobby. Both Mark and Nathan knew that this was bullshit, since Vic was actually pretty insecure, but all of Marks models had something in common: they weren't fake. Authenticity, innocence and naivety was what Mark desired to capture.

Rachel Amber hadn't been someone like that. She may have been interesting, mysterious or real, but she had been too much of a person she wanted to be. She hadn't been innocent, she had already been “ruined” by that junkie Frank. Mark had thought of her as his masterpiece – but only for the first days. Then he had recognized that she had been a teen like everybody else, standing out because of her wanderlust and her urge to see distant places, like Vegas or L. A. He had went crazy, finding out about her dragon tattoo, losing the desire of capturing her. Kate Marsh had been more his type of model, actually. It had been Nathan who had thought he could've been equal to Mark's work and Rachel Amber.

He hadn't been.

“Yeah, I totally do, but Mark-, I mean, Mr. Jefferson's _so_ old, like, you deserve so much better, Vic,” Nathan said.

“But he's really kinda hot for an older guy, I think,” Vic said, smiling like she was up to something again, “whatever. Your knuckles are red, you been getting in trouble again, Josh?” Nathan cringed hearing that name.

Nathan didn't respond for a while, making Vic take a worried look at him. “I … I kinda beat _him_ up, you know …” Nathan whispered as he took a deep breath, “I better say it now: Max has seen me with the gun and that bitch snitched on me to Wells. Idiot me went full berserk when Warren tried to protect her.”

Vic stared at him.

“You did _what_? Nate, come on,” she said and sighed desperately, “what are you doing …?”

Then they silenced. Nathan looked at his legs, inhaling deeply. _I don't know, Vic. Since the whole thing with Rachel Amber, I feel like I'm beginning to lose the ground under my feet, it's slowly disappearing and I don't know what to do, where to jump when there's nothing left. Everybody's always pushing me, you're the only one who doesn't. Who accepts me the way I am. … I killed a girl, Vic. I killed Rachel Amber everybody's talking of. I saw her writhing in pain, crawling on the ground, retching because of the overdose. First it was just white and clear, then it got red. She was vomiting blood. Then I cried for help, but it was too late, and Mark made me wait outside, I was puking because I couldn't stop crying. These pictures, Vic, the things I have seen and I have done, are engraved in my memory. And they're coming out. I try to suppress them with drugs and alcohol. But I can't stand it any longer._

_It's killing me._

“I just … I got another of these attacks, and … Warren had protected Max, and this got me furious.”

“Max? That chickenshit wannabe hipster? I _so_ hate that bitch. She comforted me when I got paint all over my body, and that was, like, the weirdest thing ever. I later texted her that this doesn't mean shit and we ain't friends. I bet she wishes. But why did she see you though?”

“I was at the girl's potty. I was feeling like shit, and then this punk bitch Chloe came, the one with the tatts and the blue hair, and I threatened her.”

“Oh crap,” Vic said, putting out her cig, “holy shit, that's _not_ good. Nate, I told you not to buy a gun. I knew this would happen. Why didn't you call me while you been getting another panic attack? … And why did you get it in the first place?”

Nathan held his breath, then he told her everything. The things about Hayden calling him gay, and Nathan punching him in the face because of that, and she showed Hayden's pathetic attempt of getting at her, texting her “hey beauty, what u been up to? Im just wearing my jersey and that's it. what u doing?”. Then, Nathan told her about Warren's and his fight.

“I'm sorry, Nate. Another shitty day, right?”

“Every retard would see how much Warren crushes on her. Oh man, that sucks,” Nathan said and Vic looked at him with sympathy.

“Don't give up hope, hon,” she said smiling, “maybe Max's his camouflage, like his alibi. Just as I am yours.”

Vic. Vic was so sweet and caring. Nathan was so glad to have her. She had always known. She had guessed it back then. “The way you look at him, the way you want his attention,” she had said, “it's obvious.” But they had been flirty and everything, so the others wouldn't find out.

“I have an idea,” Vic said, “you still got your spray stuff, right?” Then she smiled diabolically.

“I'm sorry, Vic, but I can't get the stain out of your jack–“ Taylor suddenly said, gatecrashing their company, “oh, hey Nathan.”

“Yo, Taylor, whassup,” he said, and Vic stood up.

“It's ok, Tay, it's just a jacket. Sorry for being so pissed. Ready to see your mom?”

Taylor smiled widely. “Thanks for joining me. You're the best.”

“I know, bitch,” Vic said smiling.

“You can chill here, if you want,” she said to Nate, approaching her bed, “I'm driving Taylor to her mom. And I'll text ya later about my idea.”

They kissed on their cheeks, then she disappeared behind her door. As soon as she was gone, Nathan closed his eyes, trying to relax for a minute. The sun was shining through Vic's window, and the sun beams were falling on her laptop which was showing a pic of her an Nathan, pulling a face. Nathan loved this photo. On top of that, a tiny clock. 05:55 pm

Nathan smiled; what a fun time.

05:55?

“SHIT!” Nathan said as he jumped from her bed. “Shit, Mark will be pissed …!”

 

Nathan ran to the lot, trying not think about the last time being there, then he started his car, and as the clock stroke six, the red SUV had already disappeared in the forests of Arcadia Bay.

 


	4. Acid

It was 5:15 when Nathan arrived at the Dark Room. Fuck, Mark would be so pissed. He was always on time and expected Nathan to be as well. Mark's car was shining in the evening sun. It pretty much reflected his prosperity. Well, of course Mark wasn't as rich as the Prescotts, but he made ends meet pretty well. Nathan entered the old, derelict barn through the tiny whole behind the gate. The sun beams softly shone through the broken windows, and dust got swirled as Nathan walked toward the hatch. Mark had closed it already. Nathan opened the old lock.

_5 4 2_

He entered the Dark Room, typing the exact same passcode. Then he noticed that the digits 5, 4 and 2 had already started to fade. Something Mark had always been complaining about, but both of them were too lazy to actually change the code. Well, it's not like anybody would suspect a modernized Dark Room hiding under an old shattered barn, so they were good to go.

Entering the Dark Room, Nathan could smell Mark's expensive perfume. Then he noticed Mark's and his song playing, Jacqui Dankworth's “Alone with a heart”, and the combination of both made Nathan feel like home. He looked at Mark, facing one of the big standard lamps, rearranging it.

“I told you not to be late,” Mark said without turning to Nathan. He had taken off his jacket, and his bright shirt was shining in the bright light of the lamp, revealing his well-built torso. Damn, Vic was right. He was classy _and_ sexy. Even though he was already in his thirties and Nathan saw in him some kind of father substitute, Nathan would be totally gay for him.

 _Well, already done._ Nathan didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

“Kinda slept in,” Nathan said, searching in his pockets for some cigs.

“You are one idiot, Nathan,” Mark said, suppressing a tiny chuckle. “I don't have all day. We need to talk.”

“Neither do I,” Nathan said, opening the package and fishing out a cig, “I planned to learn.”

“You sure did,” Mark laughed, and Nathan pulled a face, “and _how_ many times have I told you not to smoke here?”

“Whathefuckever,” Nathan sniffed, putting the cig, which was already in his mouth, back in the package. Then he went to the shelfs and opened a can of baked beans; he didn't know when had been the last time he had eaten some actual food besides some left over hash brownies from yesterday and his pills.

“Oh, you've changed the desktop background,” Mark noticed, seeing Kate Marsh crouching in some corner of the Dark Room, “I liked the old one, though.”

“I thought it was time for a change. That's my new fav,” Nathan said, chewing. What he didn't say was the fact that he had only changed it because he wasn't able to look at Rachel's blank eyes anymore.

Then Mark was approaching him. His stern expression was frightening Nathan – he adored him, but there was no one as unpredictable as Mark Jefferson. There could be every emotion behind his cold expression, which made him so interesting … and dangerous.

“… _what_?”

“As I already said, we need to talk. I actually wanted to talk with you about Kate Marsh, because she seems to remember fragments of the night. But then Wells talked to me about you.”

Shit. He knew. _Fuck_ , Nathan should have known. Mark glanced at him, and his brown eyes were judging him. Nathan could see his reflection in Mark's glasses. He suddenly felt so small, even though Mark was only a foot taller than him.

“When exactly did you plan to tell me about the gun?”

“Come on, nothing happened,” Nathan hissed, intending to walk away, but Mark grabbed him by his arm, making him swallow uncomfortably. He loved the funny, charming, serious, passionate Mark and he deeply feared the angry, cold one. The one who didn't give a single shit about other people and their well-being. About young girls getting drugged … killed. He knew what Mark was able to. He wasn't like other people, he could freeze emotions like he'd switch the light off and on. Something Nathan had realized a long time ago. Back when he had seen Mark's sessions for the first time, framing a girl called Deanna. He always seemed to care, and all the girls had liked him because he was so hot and because he had made them feel important, and interesting, but in fact, he didn't give a fuck about any of them. He didn't fear inserting the syringe into their neck, didn't turn a hair when he covered their mouth with duck tape, didn't feel bad talking to them afterwards, promising them to support them and not letting them fail because of them staying away from school for some time.

“You threatened a girl with your gun, is this what you call 'Nothing happened'?” Mark yelled. “Regarding your state, you _cannot_ take a fucking gun with you! How often do I have to tell you that, dumbass? You know that you could've shot her. Then everything we achieved would be ruined. _You_ would be in prison and _I_ wouldn't be able to continue our work, and we'd both be fucked. Is that what you want?”

“Holy shit, calm down, I _know_ ,” Nathan yelled. Everybody was bitching about Nathan's fucking “state”. Jesus christ, this sucked ass. He hated Mark telling him what to do. He had his own life and made his own decisions, why did nobody give a shit about that?

“… I am calm,” Mark said, restrained, letting go of Nathan's arm. Then he looked at him softly, and his voice turned deep and smooth. He tilted his head.

“I just don't want you to get in any more trouble than you already are. You're the only one I can work with,” he smiled at him tenderly, and Nathan blushed when Mark lifted his hands and stroke his hair, brushing a strand out of his face.

“Nobody would've known, but Max Caulfield absolutely _had_ to snitch on me. Bitch had hidden at the girl's bathroom. What a creep.”

“Maybe so. But I thought _you_ were the one panicking at the girl's bathroom, so who's the creep now?” Mark laughed, winking at him, but Nathan just sniffed.

“Well, well, Max Caulfield,” Mark said with a frown as he was walking through the room, brooding, “I like her eyes. They're so innocent, not like Rachel's, and yet more awake than sweet Kate Marsh's. A rare combination. She doesn't seem to like me, and then again, she seems like she does. I'm still trying to convince her to enter her photo for the contest. Francisco with her would be … quite interesting. I'm still trying to, you know … figure her out. She's acting kind of weird lately, she seems to pass out now and then. But today showed that she actually read the books, so …”

“Nothing much to figure out about that hoe,” Nathan hissed as he threw his spoon into the sink, “just an attention whoring snitch, who cannot keep her mouth shut. Your average wannabe hipster.”

Then Mark stopped and faced Nathan, giving him a questioning look. “She tries to find out what happened to Kate. You think she's on our trail?”

“No, I don't, but I know that look of yours! Mark, what the _fuck_!? Are you really thinking of photographing her? She, she doesn't deserve that! She's just a stupid cunt, who doesn't know _shit_ about movies _or_ photography and –”

“Snitched on you, I get it. But think about it, girls like Kate or Max, they look way better on these kind of photos. I've been capturing the wrong type of girls for years. The contrast of their innocence, their purity and their servility and captivity … these photos have _much_ more charisma, don't you think?”

“It will look like _shit_ , and if you do that, if you really wanna make her our next model, I'll tell my dad to stop giving you money!” Nathan shouted. But Mark just laughed.

“Alright, alright, looks like someone hasn't listened to their whale songs yet.”

He winked at him, and Nathan blushed with anger. Sometimes, he hated that bastard. It sounded weird, but sometimes, whale songs were the only thing that calmed Nathan. These weird creatures had always fascinated him in a special way. Back when Dr. Bill had told him to listen to whales, fucking screams of _whales_ , Nathan hadn't believed him. But then he had gotten used to it, and he had started to like it. Back then, when not every fifth joint had granted him a panic attack. Once he had been chilling with Vic, and they had been smoking some pot, and suddenly Nathan had heard Rachel's voice, crying, and Vic had needed to take him outside. Some other time, he had been alone in the Dark Room, and he suddenly had been feeling lonely. He had rolled a blunt, and while smoking he had gotten another panic attack. Then he had been hearing Rachel's voice again, saying “Rachel in the Dark Room” over and over again, and it had felt like her eyes had been watching him all the time. Intoxicated by insanity, he had started to write that sentence down, again and again, he had felt like she would call him, like she had risen from the death, planning to take revenge. It had been horrible. Mark had found Nathan, crouching in a corner like Kate Marsh, trying to tear it, but before he could do so, Mark had taken it and scanned it, saying that was “beautiful” and “a pure act of desperation and insanity”. Pretty fucking savage, he had always been.

Mark was acid, and yet, he was the opium to his shitty life.

“Remember when you told me about your idea of the Dark Room? I just thought about it,” Nathan said. Mark glanced up, surprised at Nathan's sudden question.

“How come? And yes, I do remember.”

“I, I just …” Nathan said, then he silenced for a while. “You offered me to cooperate, and you told me you had watched me, noticed me liking photos which were, what did you say? … Dark and morbid.”

Mark looked at him emotionlessly, then, slowly, his lips formed a light smile. “Of course I remember. I've seen you taking pictures of dead birds and deer skulls. I knew you were the right one.”

Nathan couldn't hold back a smile, thinking about Mark calling him the “right one”. Nobody had the connection they had, and nobody would understand it.

“Then, about a year ago, you spoke to me while photographing. Asking me what kind of photos I'd like to shoot myself. And I told you about–“

“Your fetish. That's right,” Mark said. Shit, when it sounded pretty harsh when he was saying it. His voice was dark and husky. “You showed me your room, and I saw your pictures. They had this specific aura of lust and obsession, screaming out for being put to practice. I'm still sorry for pushing you too hard back then.”

“Our first session,” Nathan said, lost in thought, “right.”

Nathan wouldn't forget their first time shooting. Her name was Deanna, and a few month ago, she had left Arcadia Bay. She was a party queen and her skin had the color of molten caramel. He had been doing it. Inserting the needle had been Nathan's task after taking her to the Dark Room. Mark had been mad at him because he hadn't managed to stop shaking, so drugging her had taken some time. But apart from that, Nathan had been absolutely captivated by Mark and his work. The calmness, he was radiating while photographing the girl and giving her another dose, was terrifying yet fascinating. With a firm grip and a steady hand, he positioned the girl on his own terms, so that all Nathan could do was passing him a glass of water without daring to avert his gaze from a new masterpiece being born. Mark was right. There had been nothing purer than her sight, her blank eyes and their lifeless face. Back then, when it hadn't reminded him of Rachel. After 2 hours, when they had finished their work, Nathan had taken her home. It had been done, and Nathan hadn't felt this wonderful and disgusting in years.

“I was too demanding, too … impatient. But you learn, and now you're slowly starting to grow into the role of not only my apprentice, but my partner,” Mark said and Nathan smiled.

“So what do we do about Kate Marsh?” Mark asked as he was taking a seat on the black couch, looking at Nathan and moving his head, implying Nathan to sit down next to him. “She keeps telling everybody, including me, that she has seen lights when she woke up, and some soft voice talking to her. You get what I mean.”

“Soft voice … doesn't sound like me. I'm taking care of her, she won't tell shit,” Nathan replied, “I will make everybody think she's a lying bitch who does everything for attention. … Just like Max Caulfield.”

“I count on you. And _please_ try not to get in any more trouble. Just for once, you'll do that?”

Nathan sniffed.

“Max Caulfield,” Mark said while nipping at a glass of water, “I got a feeling that this noisy bitch will cause a lot of trouble. I'll keep an eye on her. … The party was on Thursday, right?”

“Yes, why?” Nathan asked, then he understood. “No! Mark, are you fucking shitting me? You're not thinking of her as our new model, right? We fucking talked about this!”

But Mark didn't answer. Instead, he looked at his glass, frowning while rubbing his beard, thinking about something Nathan couldn't find out. Then he stood up, smiling at Nathan.

“Let's take a look at Kate's pictures.”

 

It was seven or eight o'clock when the first snowflake landed on Nathan's hand. He looked up in the sky, seeing bright clouds.

Snow. Fucking _snow_ in October. Nathan wondered if this had something to do with global warming. Thinking about this, his stomach hurt. Even though nobody seemed to give a shit about it, climate change was a thing, and Nathan really tried not mention it too much being with Vic or the other club members, but these fucking icebergs _did_ melt. It was him who had put all the posters about global warming on the noticeboard, hoping that somebody would spare a look and would hold on and read them. Nobody cared about that topic – or, maybe, someone did. A very special someone who didn't give as much fucks about Nathan as he did himself.

Nathan sighed. Well, at least _now_ he got his goddamn attention. What a fucking irony. He always called him names like Warren Gayham, but both of them knew that Warren wasn't gay.

Nathan's heart started to hurt again, so he looked at his camera, going through the photos of Chloe. That whore had broken his fucking lamp, then she had managed to flee. There wasn't a single good one, all of them were complete shit. In a fit of anger, Nathan deleted them all. He rested his head on his hands, trying to relax for a moment. When did his life become so fucked up? How the hell did he manage to end up having two persons in his life that actually mattered? One was his best friend, the other one was his mentor who expected things from him Nathan wasn't completely able to do anymore. Everything had gotten so … complicated. Nathan tried to call Kris, but she didn't answer the phone. It had been ages since they had last spoke. Then he searched for his pills as the pain in his head started to reoccur.

Rachel had broken him, and Nathan didn't know when he would collapse.

 

 


	5. Girl of Porcelain

TUESDAY

 

It was about 10 when Nathan and Vic met, deciding to prank that hipster wannabe.

“She's showering, so hurry up,” Vic said, smiling diabolically while putting on her pink lipstick. Nathan grinned, then he nodded and opened his backpack, fishing out a red spray bottle. Vic opened door number 219. This was the first time Nathan saw her room. A crappy guitar was laying next to the sofa, and a plant which didn't look healthy. God, all of these posters … she tried so hard to be cool, it was already embarrassing. He looked around, searching for something to spray a little message on. The carpet? The windows? Then he turned his head, seeing her photo wall, containing the shittiest, most average pictures ever. He knew what to do.

“Nobody … messes … with … me … _bitch_ ,” he growled. Then he took a step back, admiring his piece of art.

“There, I fixed it,” he said and Vic smiled. – “Classic. I'll text you her reaction after she's seen it. And now buzz off, she could be ready any second.”

“Almost done,” Nathan said, then he took out a photo he had made. It was a monochrome and there was a sheep head laying on a tablet, next to him Max's head he had cropped out and sticked on the photo. In a fit of yesterday's anger, he had taken a knife and had scratched out her eyes. Mark had called it sick, even though he had admitted that he kind of liked it, but Nathan himself thought of it as a fucking masterpiece. He would've never thought that the photo he had made one year ago would come in handy.

“Serves you right, you stupid bitch,” Nathan said, then he laid it on her bed. Vic and him kissed on the cheeks, then he left her room, walking down the hallway of the girl's dormitories, hearing loud pop music coming from a room, and a girl jumping on her bed, laughing. Then he heard Vic scream, “Turn this shit off, slut!” and another girl started yelling at her.

 _Girls_ – sometimes, Nathan was glad to be a guy … and not having to deal with chicks.

“Get the fuck out of here, creep! Try to watch me while I'm taking a shower and I'll kick your ass,” this fat bitch called Alyssa yelled, and she looked at him with her purple hair, trying so hard to look tumblr. Girls like her grossed him out.

“You really think _any_ body wants to do that voluntary?” Then she froze, and Nathan retched, thinking about her showering. Why did she play so hard to get when she was already hard to want?! Nathan chuckled; that was actually Vic's quote he had prayed on the school's wall. So far, nobody seemed to care about it.

Then he exited the dormitories and inhaled the fresh air. God, it felt so good. He was up since 8, and he was already so freaking tired. Why was that? Actually, there wasn't a time he was actually awake. He always felt like he was not really there. Existing, yes. But not emotionally. He went to his room and grabbed his second phone.

'Keep your mouth shut about everything. Or I'm coming for your ass. I know where you sleep', he texted Max. That should do it. Nobody messed with him. She should know that, for her own sake.

He put his phone under his sofa, then he went outside again, as a stupid yet tempting thought flashed to his mind, the thought of not giving a shit at all and going to the sea and taking a bath. What the hell was wrong with Nathan? But then again – why not? Why the fuck not? Why shouldn't he go to the lot, start his fucking car, drive to the lighthouse and take a fucking bath in the–

“Nathan Prescott,” a voice said. Nathan turned round. He sighed. Chloe's step-fuehrer, as she would say. Bitch knew how to call people names. “What were you doing in the girl's dormitories?”

“My friend still got my flash drive, so she took me to her room and gave it to me,” he said, staring at Madsen's thick bush right over his lips. He frowned, crossing his arms. Damn, he looked so intense. He seemed like he had seen something minutes before. Nathan glanced at him.

“And your friend could't wait and bring it to the door?” he asked like he was Sherlock fucking Holmes or something. What the hell did he try to do?

“Can I help you?” Nathan hissed, but Madsen narrowed his eyes. “Boys aren't allowed in the girl's dormitories and vice versa.” What kind of fucked up concept was that? Jesus christ, they had been more liberal back in the fucking fifties.

“But apart from that, this was not the reason I wanted to talk to you,” he said, and Nathan thought about all the things he had done. Did he know about Kates vid? Or had he found out about Nathan's new graffiti about Mrs. Grant? Or maybe he had noticed that it had been him and Zach stabbing Well's wheels last week.

“Do you know a man called Frank Bowers?”

“No, I don't? Was that it?”

“Well, let me just tell you straight ahead, there are some rumors that you are selling drugs Blackwell students. Is that true?” Not only students, Mr. Madsen. Everybody who got cash and could keep their mouth shut.

“No, it's not, and I really have to go to attend class now,” Nathan snarled, and suddenly, his headache started to appear, again.

“I just wanted to inform you that there are witnesses claiming that you've been selling drugs, especially coming from that drug dealer called Frank Bowers. So be prepared for my men investigating your room.”

“What …?!” Nathan gasped. Shit! No, they couldn't do that! If they investigated his room, he'd be _fucked_. There were blood stains from Chloe passing out Nathan couldn't wash away, and these mutts were surely able to discover his drugs from the last party …!

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't think that my father, the most influential man in whole Arcadia Bay and beyond, would approve of you violating his son's privacy,” Nathan yelled.

“I think I'm head of Blackwell's security sentry and _you_ are in serious trouble, young man. I will talk to Officer Berry about that, and I'm sure he won't endorse knowing that you could be hiding drugs or pills in your room.”

“Whatthe _fuck_ ever! I ain't gonna do _shit,_ you can't fucking scare me. My room's clean and you _know_ that. You'll hear from my attorney,” Nathan hissed, then he went away, holding his head since these stupid headaches started to appear again. Shit!

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Nathan mumbled, “don't panic, don't panic, everything's ok.” Then he took out his phone and called Mark. He knew he wasn't allowed to do so, and Mark would certainly be pissed, but he _had_ to. He started to get another attack and he knew that didn't end well.

“Hello? Yes …?“

“Mark, I know I shouldn't call you, but it's urgent,” Nathan said, trying hard to breath. _Come on, Nate, we've practiced … inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._

Mark sighed, “Uh … hold on.”

“You know that Max snitched on me and got me reported, right?”

“Yes,” Mark said and Nathan could literally hear him roll with his eyes.

“Okay, and now Madsen has heard some things, too, that, ugh, that I've been pumping drugs and shit, how does he know that? Shit, Madsen wants to investigate my fucking room! You have to tell him not to do so! He'll listen to you, crap, if he sees Chloe's blood and shit, I'm so fucked! My dad's gonna take me from fucking Blackwell!”

“Sure, okay,” Mark said. Nathan sensed that he wanted him to stop babbling, but he couldn't do so, the words were falling out of his mouth.

“Because, like, I know I should't have a gun and stuff, but I don't want these fuckers to search for drugs because they _will_ find some, and if Sean knows about that, i'll be _fucked_ , and I don't know–”

“ _Listen_ , I do have a class I have to teach, I have to go–“

“Uhm, yeah, I _know_ , but this is like _really_ fucking important to both of us, and you need to hurry the fuck up and talk to him about that!”

“Mm-hmm. Okay, I'll do that,” Mark said firmly, and Nathan swallowed. Seemed like he did in fact take this seriously, even though Mark didn't seem as worried as Nathan.

“Sean already saw me taking drugs, and if he finds out, he's not gonna believe me anymore,” Nathan said in panic, nervously nibbling on his fingernails.

“Oh, I know. That makes sense,” Mark said mechanically. _Of course it does, you dense idiot_. Sometimes, Nathan wished Mark would be a little bit more empathic.

“Seriously, I have to hang up now–" 

“But–“

“Lets talk about this later,” Mark said, his voice was firm, and Nathan felt super annoying, but he could't stop it. His head was throbbing and his hands were sweaty and cold, like his fear would cling to his stomach and swell at his throat.

Silence.

“We'll talk later, okay? I have to go,” Mark said, but his voice had turned soft.

“Why the fuck don't you wanna talk about it?” Nathan yelled; God, he sounded like his fucking wife. “Seriously, this isn't little Max snooping around at the girl's potty!” His muscles started to twitch again, that always happened during a panic attack.

“Because I can't have this conversation with you right now, okay? Would you _please_ just hang up the phone?”

“You best fucking do something,” Nathan hissed. – “Okay,” Mark said tenderly, and Nathan smiled, feeling sorry for his outburst of rage.

 

His head was throbbing. He looked around; nothing to drink. He should really get used to take a bottle with him. Why was his head like that? He grabbed some pills, then he swallowed them, which sent shivers up Nathan's spine. God, how he hated his body. He felt like a wooden mannequin, but his innards were rotten and worm-eaten, and little maggots were eating their way up Nathan's head. Slowly consuming him. Kris had told him to take a breath every now and then, to take it slow, partying all around the clock wasn't healthy. Well she did have a point … but how was Nathan supposed to feel anything without pushing his body to the limits? He did what she said, though. Listening to these whale sounds she had sent him, for example. That really calmed him. He wished he'd be in Brazil, with her, seeing these creatures in real life.

Nathan knew that the pills took some time, so he sat down on a bench. Then he lightened a cig as he closed his eyes, trying to listen to the sounds of the morning birds, of the people walking around, looking at him judging, tried to catch the light October breeze. Such a nice day. Normally, he would've loved to photograph some things, walking around with his camera, maybe trying out some angles on Vic, framing her under some trees' shadows. Photographing was the only activity which calmed him down, stopped his random twitches that used to appear all of sudden. … But not today. Today was different, not only because of his shitty headache. There was something in the air … The day Rachel had been murdered by Nathan had been the same. The air was warm, a little breeze now and then, some butterflies flapping around and shit, it was such an un-fucking-believably nice day. Then this had happened.

Nathan took a drag as he observed the people passing by, looking at the squirrels or at him, and Nathan knew that none of them liked him. What a weird thought. Nathan had always wanted to capture some whales in motion, and Vic recently had promised him to go on a cruise. He looked forward to this day. Why did he want to become a famous photographer in the first place? Well, he didn't know. Back when his mother had died two years ago, he had thought that he would never frame anyone again. But the death … it had attracted him, and he had started to admire it. To capture it. Desperation and fear had turned to passion and new strength.

The first time Sean had hit him had been at his mother's funeral. Back when Nathan had photographed her in her coffin. He had thought she looked calm and peaceful, but Sean hadn't. Once, Nathan had almost been charged because he had broken into a graveyard by night and had photographed a dead cat laying on her owner's grave. Vic and Kris had always been the only persons who had seen something in him … something different than his last name.

Suddenly, Nathan needed to retch again. Shit, maybe he had taken too much of these pills. He knew how to take these fuckers without water and everything, that was his hidden super power. But then again, who cared anyway if he died? Well, not him. Since these pills, Nathan started to sweat and twitch a lot more than he usually did, and this was the reason he didn't attend class anymore. How could he do that if he couldn't manage to keep still for one minute? During the summer, Vic had always wanted to go swimming, but since Nathan had gotten an ugly ass rash directly on his chest, he couldn't do so, as well.

Fucking hell, maybe Mark was right. His “state” got worse everyday. 90 percent of the time, Nathan felt like just being there. Nothing more. He needed to, well, stimulate his senses by playing horror games or watching videos on LiveLeak, seeing somebody getting shot or whatever. Pretty fucked up, very true. But the only thing making Nathan feel alive … apart from that one guy. This kick, he needed that. He had gotten the same kick drugging Rachel Amber, but the kick hadn't stopped. And Rachel had died.

He saw the nun when he threw his cig away. Sweet Kate Marsh. Nathan wondered why she kept going to school instead of locking herself into her room, crying until her eyes fell out. Kate was one of the best victims they had. Almost perfect – if there wasn't the fact that she remembered a few things. It felt so good seeing her suffer. That way, Nathan could forget his own miserable life for at least a second.

“Samuel got the feeling that today, something terrible will happen,” a voice said. Then, Nathan saw Samuel sitting down next to him. Nathan wanted to stand up before some of the club members would see him, but he suddenly felt so weak, and he just wanted to relax and close his eyes for one moment.

 

“And I think I'm not the only one thinking that,” Samuel said without looking up. Nathan swallowed. No, he wasn't.

“The squirrels told me. Animals sense a lot more than us humans.”

 _That's it_ , Nathan thought, _there will be the day I'm leaving this shithole full of freaks and creepy pedophiles. Alone, or with Mark._

“Look at these squirrels,” Samuel said as he threw some nuts to them, “they like Samuel because they communicate on the same spiritual level. What animal are you communicating with, Nathan?”

What the fuck. Come on, there _had_ to be a place where Nathan could be all alone. Just _one_ fucking minute.

“I don't know what the fuck you talking 'bout, but you fucking creep me out,” Nathan said and the moment he wanted to stand up, he saw Zach kicking a football which landed directly on Kate Marsh's face. She cried out. Nathan giggled. Zach just hadn't any fucks left to give, that's why he loved him.

“I think your spirit animal is the whale,” Samuel said, “you're craving for the sea. I can see it in your eyes. They're aquamarine and starry, just like a wave on the ocean.”

“I don't give a shit about whales _or_ the sea _or_ fucking spirit animals. That's hella bullshit, nothing more,” Nathan snarled.

“That's what your mouth tells me. But your eyes say something different. I've seen your posters about the global warming, and the ones about the polar bears and the whales. You have a good heart. You've just abandoned it.”

Who did this creep think he is? Why did everybody have to fucking analyze him? And why … were they always right? He loved whales. He loved these fat, giant fishes, he thought they were fucking majestic and yes, he fucking loved Moby Dick, too. Was he that easy to see through? That … transparent? 

In a fit of anger, he stood up. _All of these fucking idiots. Nobody knows me or what I like or what I think. You all think you're so clever, walking around with these cheap cameras or this Insta shit, thinking you're the next Diane fucking Arbus. But your shitty lenses cannot capture me. Capture what I really want, and what I suffer from every fucking day. None of you can what I –_

“Ugh,” he groaned after he suddenly collided with Kate, who already insisted on apologizing, seized with panic.

“Don't even _try_ to hit on me, hoe,” he growled, and Kate's nose turned red as she started to cry again. God, this girl _really_ got on his nerves.

“You'll be sorry for that one day,” she whimpered. – “You keep saying that, but I'm still waiting for that day. Show me ya naughty side, biatch,” he laughed. Then he saw her hastily typing a number, bitch probably wanted to beg Jesus for forgiveness. Nathan wasn't the one having to apologize. His fucking _life_ needed to apologize to him.

Suddenly, he needed to retch again. Fucking shit, when did this stop? … No, this time was different, he really was about to puke! Nathan felt the cold sweat on his back, then his stomach lightning a fire in his abdomen. Shit! He gasped, holding his mouth, then he ran. He didn't care about the students looking at him like he had gone fucking insane, and he didn't care about the fact that he didn't care about _anything_ anymore. The only thing that kept him from vomiting on the school's hallway was the result of him being – officially – a psycho. Nathan retched again, feeling his eyes water. He held his breath. Everybody was looking at him. He saw the sign of the bathroom, and Nathan gave a sigh of relief.

He kicked in the door, then he raced to the toilet, falling on his knees and puking his guts out. His head was spinning, and his body was cold and trembling. He wiped away his tears, then he used his sleeve to clean his shaking lips from saliva.

“Oh god, oh shhh- shit, shit, shit,” Nathan whimpered, retching again.

“Nathan? You okay, bro?” a familiar voice asked carefully. Hayden, fucking hell. No way Nathan would ever talk to this jerk again.

“Fuck off!” Nathan yelled before he needed to puke again. He cried again while clasping the toilet seat, trying to suppress the flashbacks of this very night.

 

_“She's dead, Nathan. Get away from her!” Mark said firmly, dragging Nathan apart who was holding Rachel's dead body tight, leaning over her, screaming at her._

_“No! Don't do this to me! Rachel! RACHEL! I, I didn't want to …!” Nathan whimpered, gasping, trying to hold back his tears and his nausea. There had been this one bittersweet voice whispering into Nathan's ear, demanding to take a photo, to frame this girl for eternity, to make the most innocent, pure and morbid photo. But this voice had died after Nathan had realized what he had done._

_“Nathan, get out! You're just making it worse. Get some fresh air and calm the fuck down, we need to stay focused. Get out and take a deep breath,” Mark said insistently._

_“No! I killed a girl, I killed Rachel! I killed her, I, ugh, I … I killed her!”_

 

Nathan stood up and looked into the mirror, seeing a shell of someone he had used to be. His face was pale and empty, his eyes red and swollen like Kate Marsh's. What if he was dead and nobody had told him?

“I killed her,” Nathan mouthed, looking into the eyes of a murderer, “her death is my fault. I killed her. … I killed Rachel for a photo.”

Suddenly, his fist was faster than his mind, and he took a swing and punched the boy in the mirror. Shards were clinking, dark blood was floating out of a crooked hand, and the boy in the mirror was gone. Nathan dazedly looked at the shattered mirror, red sprinkles were covering it. Then his gaze went to his hand. It was throbbing and covered in blood. Then, the pain arrived at his hand, and Nathan pressed his lips together, trying not to scream.

“FUCK!” he cried, removing a tiny shard. His head was spinning and he needed to grab the washbasin in order not to fall over. Then he let water pour all over his hand. The wound wasn't big, but shit, it _hurt_. Then Nathan looked up, again, and a tear ran down his pale cheeks.

He looked into what had been left of the mirror, seeing a twisted, distorted figure in the mirror. Who was that? Was that really him? This couldn't be. … Nathan didn't know this boy. What had happened to the boy who liked to draw whales and read adventure novels under his blanket? When had he decided to make the shittiest out of his life …?

“Yo, some crazy shit is going down at the girl's dorm!”

Nathan rubbed his eyes, sighing. No way he was coming. He needed some rest right _now_. Why couldn't he have _one_ fucking quiet minute? Why was everybody freaking out over some shi–

“Kate Marsh's gone fucking insane! Check it, everybody!”

Silence.

“No …” Nathan's breath got stuck in the bottom of his throat as he stared at his swollen, bursted knuckles, feeling his blood run cold.

“No …” he mouthed. His knees started to get numb. Then he heard people scream. He tried to run, but he failed and smashed on the ground as he struggled to get up. _This can't be happening_ , Nathan thought while making his way through the girls' dorm, staggering. Numb. Vic ran toward him, wanting to talk to him, but Nathan didn't hear a sound. He wouldn't make it to the dorm.

 

Then he saw her. She was standing on the roof, her feet close to the edge.

“Ohmygod, what a fucking attention whore, right? I've been filming for ages and she hasn't done shit. Bitch enjoys it too much, let me tell ya,” Vic snarled. But Nathan could neither respond nor look at her. He tried, but his lips felt so heavy. His whole body was … numb. He tried to run away, but his legs refused.

_She doesn't act. She's going to jump._

Nathan couldn't move. Everybody stared at her, and it felt like time would stand still. Someone was standing in front of her, talking to her. Was that … was that Max? Nathan gasped. How did she get on the roof …?

“She's _so_ not gonna do that,” Vic said, trying to sound firmly. But she failed. “Too much of a pussy. She just wants to lecture us. She won't jump. She, she wont …” she stuttered, then she lowered her phone in fear.

 _Rachel_.

Suddenly, Kate took another step back, and Nathan held his breath. His knees got weak. “No …” he whispered, staring at the girl of porcelain.

_I've made a mistake, and if somebody deserves death, then it's me._

_“_ Shit Nathan, your hand's bleeding,” Vic said, but Nathan didn't answer. The blood drops were staining the grass they were standing on, falling on the daisies. 

Kate was yelling, stepping back from Max. Her movements were empty and rigid. He had never thought that …! If he had known that Kate had been serious, then …! This, this couldn't be!

Not another girl dying because of him! When did that stop?! He hadn't wanted to hurt her, he had just wanted to please Mark!

_I didn't want to do this._

Samuel had been right. Kate had been right. Why had never listened?! Why had he chosen to be an ignorant shit? To not give a single fuck about people's lives? Just because his life was so miserable, it didn't mean theirs was as well.

_I didn't want to do this!_

Kate turned around, and Max started to run.

_Don't do this to me !!!_

A raindrop fell on Nathan's forehead, running in his eye. He mechanically rubbed it out, then Kate's body smashed on the ground. A crack sounded, and blood poured out of her head. Eyes of glass were looking at him. Judging him. One second, nobody said anything.

Then the students cried out, and girls collapsed over her dead body, screaming her name, but Nathan couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare into her blank eyes. … Rachel's eyes.

Nathan looked down at him, noticing the red splashes on his shirt.

– Then, Nathan woke up.

“NO!!” he screamed, shoving everybody away who had surrounded Kate, as he fell on his knees, sobbing.

“NO, NO! Why did you do that!? WHY? I didn't …! I didn't want to …! Rachel! RACHEL!” Nathan screamed and grabbed Kate's shoulders, shaking her lifeless body. The red paint filled the crack's on the cobble.

“Rachel!! I'm sorry!! I'm sorry! Wake up! _Please_ wake up, no, no …!!” People tried to get him away from Kate's body, but Nathan held it tightly, pressing her slack torso against his, burying his face into her nape as he shoved his fingers though her hair.

“Why did you do that to me?! Rachel! Rachel!!! I told you, I'm SORRY!”

“Nathan!” a familiar voice yelled. Then Nathan's body got pulled up.

“No, don't! I need to tell her I'm sorry!” Nathan whimpered, desperately trying to escape Mark's grip, who was dragging him away from Kate to a safe space.

“I killed her, Mark, I killed Rachel,” Nathan whimpered as hot tears were running down his cheeks.

“Shut your mouth,” Mark yelled, then he glared at him, “do you have a _fucking_ clue how many people can hear you? You need to calm down, right _now_!”

“You don't understand, I killed her, I–“ Nathan gasped as he held his breath, then he stared at Mark who had just slapped him in the face. His cheek started to burn, and he mechanically covered it with his hand.

“Jesus, Nathan, why can't I let you alone for _one_ minute without you fucking everything up,” Mark said, looking at his wounded hand, “Kate's death is _not_ your fault. Look at me.”

He cupped Nathan's face, then their eyes met. His hands were soft and warm, and Nathan slowly stopped crying. Mark smiled tenderly, then Nathan's breathing turned regular. He inhaled deeply, and Mark opened his arms and embraced Nathan. He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the memories of Rachel's and now Kate's dead face. Smelling Mark's perfume made him feel so much better. He could feel his heart beat.

“See, everything's fine. I'm there,” Mark said softly as he stroke Nathan's hair, and his smooth, dark voice made Nathan, weary and burdened, rest for a second.

 


	6. Lies in the Dark

“Hey Nate, you okay?”

Mark looked at him empathically while Nathan was approaching him. It had been the same words as Vic's, but in contrast to her, Nathan didn't ignore Mark. Nathan had seen Vic and had been passing by like he had never seen her before. He had still been in shock, and had needed to get a shower. Instead of getting a headache, he now felt nothing at all in his head. Like his brain had decided to get some rest. Every part of his body felt empty and heavy. Standing in the cabin, feeling the warm water hugging his body had been comforting and intoxicating, and he liked the thought of the water washing all these recent events away.

But it didn't.

“I dunno, yes, I guess,” he said, resting his forehead on Mark's chest who caressed the back of his head, “sorry for freaking out … again.”

“You were in shock, it's alright,” Mark said, and Nathan looked into his hazel eyes behind his glasses. Doing so, Nathan felt sort of nostalgic; Mark had always been like a father. He was his pillar of strength, his source of tranquility. Nobody was a bigger part of him than Mark Jefferson.

“Now, look at me, Nathan,” he said, and Nathan obeyed. “They're waiting for us in Well's office. Berry and Madsen are there, too. … And Max. Listen, if you want this to work, you _absolutely_ need to act like all of this – Rachel, this one night, Kate – all of this never happened. You're the same jerk as always, no clue what's with that drug stories. Max's up our asses, you know that she thinks that you drugged Kate. She _thinks_ that, but she hasn't got any prove. She will try to blame you again, in front of Wells. That bitch is snitching on us, and I'm afraid that she already knows way too much. I had her affection, but I somehow lost part of it, and I feel like she suspects me.”

Mark looked at him firmly, “Can you do that?” Nathan swallowed, then he nodded.

“Be an ignorant, pubescent douche,” then Mark's lips formed a smirk, and he looked at him with his hooded eyes, “just act naturally.”

 

“I know this isn't pleasant for any of us, but we have to go over what happened before Miss Marsh … before she did what she did.”

Wells was standing in front of the big curtain. Dim light was shining through the window. Nathan heard the birds singing; clouds were slowly drifting past. What a beautiful day it could've been. He was sitting on the right of Max, who looked exhausted, hair of cotton candy was framing a tear-stained face. In this very moment, knowing that Max hadn't managed to keep Kate from jumping, he had felt something unfamiliar. Something like … respect. Him and her were on the same side, they both were distressed by the recent events, traumatized. Nathan discreetly dared to look at her. She was leaning on her knees, staring at her feet. She sniffed her nose, and Nathan noticed her freckles. For one moment, Nathan thought of leaning over and taking her hand. But this moment vanished as quickly as Kate's body had glided through the air, a light feather getting blown away by the storm that was awaiting all of them. … Something bigger would happen, Nathan knew it, and Kate's death was just the beginning.

“Officer Berry will be taking notes for the official police inquiry. I'm sure you'll give him your full cooperation.” Wells said, and Nathan glanced over to Berry. He better didn't say anything about his dad's order to have an eye on him, the last thing Nathan needed was Max knowing that Sean had hired a babysitter protecting him. God, he hated when people felt so important, and he hated when people needed to control his life.

“Such a tragedy. … But there must be a reason for everything.”

Fucking hypocrite. Wells didn't give a shit about anything happening at Blackwell. He didn't give a shit about Nathan, and he didn't give a shit about Kate. His alcohol seemed to have besotted his senses. Or maybe, him and Nathan had finally something in common, not giving a fuck about anything anymore.

“We need to find out why Kate Marsh would be driven to such desperate action. As principal of Blackwell Academy, I take my duties seriously. I take the well-being of every student more seriously. What happened today should never happen in a hall of wisdom and knowledge. Mr. Madsen, as our head of security here, those roof doors should always be locked. That's just standard operating procedure. They were not.”

Shots fired. Nathan looked at Madsen, staring at the ground like a mutt who had been punched on the snout. This fascist didn't give a shit about Kate either, that's why he hadn't locked the door. Nathan was so sick of everybody pretending to care about anyone. This school was full of ignorants who only cared for themselves.

Then, Wells looked at Mark. Nobody in this room knew what Nathan and him had done. Especially not Wells. Oh, the sweet irony. Kate Marsh had died because of them, and so had Rachel.

“Mr. Jefferson, I know you can't be expected to know what your students are going through, but Kate has assisted you in class, so you should have known something was amiss.”

Mark opened his mouth, intending to contradict, but he closed it as Wells turned to Nathan. He looked at him sternly, trying to intimidate him, but Nathan didn't care enough about this loser to do him this favor.

“Mr. Prescott, since you are responsible for the Vortex Club parties,” Nathan sighed, of course – _that_ argument, “and since Miss Marsh did attend your last party, you'll have to answer some more questions.” Then he sat down.

Wells asked Max about Kate and why she had been on the roof, and Nathan dared to look at Mark, then their eyes met, and for a glimpse of a second, Nathan could see the caution in his eyes. The caution to watch his mouth. A silent, unspoken word warned Nathan about Madsen staring at him, and a light, almost invisible eye movement indicated to him that Max would remember what he would say about Kate.

Then, Max got asked about what she had noticed about Kate. Nathan looked at her, being the only one doing that. Nathan looked at Mark, and he knew what he was thinking. He stared at the ground, awaiting her response. She would blame Nathan for drugging Kate or some shit, which was true yet unprovable. Max didn't knew shit, they were safe if she didn't suspect Mark. As long as she was thinking that Nathan was the bad guy here, they were safe. There was no other way, and Nathan needed to prepare for his role. Wells wouldn't believe her, but maybe Madsen did. Nathan inhaled deeply; he hoped that Mark had already talked to him about that.

But Max's response changed everything.

“I saw Mr. Jefferson talking to Kate right before our class … then she ran off crying.”

Nathan held his breath, then he looked at Mark. For one short moment, he lost himself, clenching his fist, frowning, trying to suppress the anger of knowing he had underestimated Max. Then picked up his mask and put it on again.

 _There we go_ , Nathan thought, _Mark being the breathtaking yet frightening and psychopathic man he is, in the role of the caring photography teacher._ The one who had recently told Nathan that they needed to “get the fuck rid off Kate”. 3, 2, 1 … action.

“Kate … Miss Marsh … has been very withdrawn lately,” he said with a soft, almost broken voice. Nathan hold back a smirk. Mark was probably the evilest person he knew, and every day he spent with him, he loved him more.

“And I assume this awful video was the cause. I hated seeing the students laugh at her. She told me Max was the only one who believed her, would take her calls and actually listened to her.”

Nathan swallowed. It sucked hearing Mark talk about Max like he would actually mean it. Was he … jealous of Max, earning Mark's attention? Even if it was fake? _N_ _o fucking way_ , Nathan blushed, _he hates that bitch, and I know it,_ and without thinking, he turned to Mark.

“She shouldn't have asked to be on video macking with some dudes,” he heard himself say, and Mark tried to suppress a giggle, looking like he was like “Well, fair enough”.

“You ass. She didn't ask for any of this,” Max hissed, glaring at him, probably feeling like Sherlock Holmes for not noticing that this was fucking _sarcasm_.

“No, on the contrary. Max was right to bring this up,” Mark said, and Nathan stared at him. Fucking traitor, just when Nathan had defended him. He turned away from him, deciding not to look at him for the whole session.

“Now, I wanted to help, but I guess I was too late,” he said. No shit, Sherlock. Mark and his logic.

“Well now, this is problematic. The publicity is rising and perhaps, you shouldn't represent Blackwell at the 'Everyday Heroes' contest in San Fransisco.”

Mark froze, and his mask began crumbling. “Are you serious?” he asked. One eyebrow twitched, and two maroon eyes were glaring at Wells. Mark avoided looking at Max, but Nathan knew that he had to put himself together. Did she plan all of this …? Maybe she thought that Vic would win the contest, and she wanted to score her off. Nathan wondered if he would've been jealous if Mark would've went with Vic. She was his best friend, and though she liked him, he knew that Mark would never return her affections. He never did to anyone.

“I am. We don't need any negative press about that event.”

Mark shook his head, and Nathan leaned back in anger. Though he secretly _was_ happy about Mark staying at Blackwell, maybe doing stuff with him instead, he hated this bitch for ruining something he had been looking forward to. How fucking insane had he been, thinking about taking her hand?!

“And we need to involve the Academy in possible disciplinarian measures for you.”

 _Disciplinarian measures_ , fucking hell! Mark wasn't a stupid child needing to get punished for breaking a plate. _Y'all so stupid_ , Nathan thought, _if you'd know what him and I did, the real reason for Kate's death, know what we could do to you, you'd fear us all._

“I understand,” Mark frowned, looking like the pain of every human on this planet would rest squarely on his shoulders (nobody had mastered the look of the sorrowful puppy eyes better than Mark Jefferson), preparing to guilt-trip Wells, “there are bigger things at stake than me. The life of a young girl at one …”

Then, a scornful sniff. Two eyes met, and the whelp eyes turned to the possessed eyes of a pit bull gone wild, ready to attack. Mark looked at Madsen steadfastly, and Nathan, fascinated by their duel, stared at both of them. Some popcorn would've been perfect.

“Maybe you should investigate other stuff members? Max told me she knew things about Mr. Madsen.”

Madsen's eyes widened, and he glared at Max who looked at him frightened, trying to appear much stronger than she actually was.

Wells wanted both Nathan and Max to sign the statement they had done, even though Nathan hadn't said a word, making it a classic Wells move of trying to appear _way_ more important than he actually was. Wells stood up and told them about the further investigation he and the police had planned, then he dismissed them.

“Why are you like this?” Max asked Nathan, and he noticed her tearing up.

“You talkin' to me?” he snarled, then she shook her head, passing by with the words “A girl just killed herself, Nathan.”

_No fucking shit, thanks for telling me, I barely noticed._

Nathan saw Berry looking at him in a weird matter, Nathan hated the way he looked. Actually, Nathan just hated the person itself. Then he saw Mark and Max exchanging glances, before Wells said something to him, but Mark ignored his peace offer. He said something which sounded like “No, I don't, thank you very much.” as he ditched Wells, making him look like he got a flea in his ear. Shortly after, Mark and Nathan's eyes met; he looked at him frustratedly.

Just when he was about to approach him, Nathan heard a firm voice behind his back saying his name. He turned around as he scrutinized Madsen and his silly base cap.

“You're lucky Mr. Jefferson saved your ass, but you're not getting away like this next time. Be prepared for the police investigating against you. I know that there's something fishy about you and your whole club, and I'm gonna find out what.”

Nathan sniffed, “Go ahead and my father will sue your a–“

“Well, thank you for letting Nathan know, Mr. Madsen, and now excuse us please, will you,” Mark said, stepping between Nathan and Madsen, “this boy just witnessed a classmate's suicide and is still in shock, and you should be ashamed of yourself intimidating him like that.”

“Ha,” Madsen said, and a weird mocking grin formed on his lips, “look at this brat's face, he doesn't care about _anyone_. Show some respect, don't you know who I am?”

“Can't blame him for that. In fact, hardly anybody in Arcadia Bay knows who you are,” Mark said and a charming smile bloomed on his lips, then him and Nathan went off, feeling Madsen's ashamed gaze burning in their backs.

“That was _classic_ what you said to him,” Nathan laughed, impressed and flattered by Mark standing up for him, feeling his cheeks glow, “how did you stop him from entering my room?!”

“Oh well, I just asked him if he, head of the security, didn't know about article 37, paragraph 5 of Blackwell's school ordinance.”

“What does it say?”

“I don't know, and apparently, Madsen doesn't, too,” Mark grinned, “I'm not even sure if there's something like a school ordinance.”

Nathan bursted out in laughter, “You're _so_ awesome! Thanks for saving my ass.” – “Anything for you,” Mark smiled, and Nathan flushed. Damn, why did Mark have to say _one_ sweet sentence to make Nathan blush like a little girl?! Then they stopped, and Mark scrutinized him.

“How's your headache? You still get attacks?”

“Maybe,” Nathan said, looking down on his shoe tips, seeing Mark's black leather shoes, “but only when I'm stressed out. I, ugh, recently passed out.”

“Wait, you did _what …_? Shit, Nathan, I told you to call me when you're not feeling good. The wound on your head, that's because of the fall, right?”

Nathan remained silent, nervously picking at his fingernails, hidden in his jacket pocket. Mark was a good observer, Nathan hoped he hadn't noticed his red knuckles, too.

“And your knuckles, they're swollen again, don't think I've missed that,” Mark said harshly, then he crossed his arms, “I'm not able to protect you any longer, if you keep fighting with everybody, _especially_ since this bitch got me expelled from the contest. I've told you that about a thousand times now, do me a favor and _listen_ for once.”

He was mad, but he wasn't as mad as he could've been. Mark tried to keep his glance steadfast and firm, but he usually failed being not _that_ upset about him, ending up in a look made from a mixture of desperation and resignation.

“Hey, Nate, before you go,” Mark said as Nathan intended going off and take a shower or kill himself. Mark's tender look rested on him, “I'm driving home. If you want to talk about today or, you know, want some company … you're welcome. As always. Just come over and I'll cook us something nice.”

Nathan noticed his mouth water just by thinking of Mark's mad cooking skills, last time he had visited him, which had been last week, he had made Coq au Vin while Nathan had helped with the dessert, Crème Brûlée. Nathan held back a big grin, which didn't really work, so he embarrassedly rubbed his neck, awkwardly smiling at Mark.

“Uhm, y-yeah, I will.”

Nathan went off. It was starting to get dark, and a swarm of wild gooses was passing by, twittering excitedly. Nathan wondered what was going on, then he saw it: the eclipse. He couldn't believe his eyes. What the hell was that? The next one should've been in two years. At least, this was what Warren had always told everybody … except for Nathan.

Warren.

Where was he? He was probably with Max. Maybe he could ask him about the eclipse? But then again, Nathan was pretty sure that Warren didn't want to talk to him. He scrutinized his bloodstained knuckles, they were swollen from punching Warren, and there was a sharp wound coming from that mirror. Nathan swallowed his tears, then he rubbed his eyes. Why was everything so complicated?

“Nature,” Nathan mumbled, looking at the eclipse, “you're trying to tell us something. I know it. Maybe Kate knew, too.”

Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrating, and he checked for new messages.

 

'nate u there

please come over im feeling like shit' – Vic

 

'fcuk I cant stop crying' – Vic

 

'nate where r u' – Vic

 

'comin hon

gimme a sec' – Nathan

 

Poor Vic, last time she had been this disturbed had been at the time of her grandma's death. Nathan hoped she was okay. He started going into her direction, then he noticed another message. Nathan read the name.

 

'Nathan, Principle Wells has told me about that girl's accusation. I just wanted you to inform you that I'm tired of protecting you, and I don't know what you think you're doing. I've texted that girl and told her about the consequences of this accusation. I don't care what you did nor what really happened. I can't sue Blackwell for every shit you've done. I just want you to know that if you're not able to make it through Blackwell without a weekly complaint, I will make you fulfill the legacy the Prescott's name gave you, if you like it or not. This is your last chance.

Don't fuck it up.' – Sean

 

Nathan felt a lump in his throat as he went out, staring on the dim light of his phone. Why didn't he care? Why didn't he just ask what was making Nathan acting so weird. _Sean_ , he thought, _I have already fucked up. Why don't you care about me? I'm your son. I just want you to be proud of me. I just want you to show that you love me. Is that too much? Why don't you just ask? Why do you keep telling me that I was a mistake? Why do you keep telling me that I'm sick?_

Nathan pressed his lips together, trying not to cry, when a tear fell down on his phone, landing on the second message Sean had sent him shortly after.

'You've always been difficult. Why cant you be more like your sister?' – Sean

 

 

It was about seven o'clock when Nathan entered Vic's room, finding her laying on her bed. Shattered and disturbed. They fell into each other's arms.

“I, I d-didn't want … I … It's all my fault,” Vic sobbed, and Nathan could feel her hot tears wetting his nape. He tried to comfort her, telling her that everything was alright and it wasn't her fault, but … he couldn't. Nothing was right. Everything was complete shit and Kate's death had been caused by Nathan and Vic, and both of them plus every other student knew.

“I, I went too far. I spread the video and I knew I was going too far, but I didn't stop! I didn't stop ruining a pure life just because mine was so shitty and superficial,” Vic cried, and Nathan held her, not knowing what to say. He looked at her red nose and her blue eyes, sparkling in her tears. God, crying or laughing, she was gorgeous.

“Kate died because of me,” she sobbed. – “Come here, it's ok,” Nathan said, trying to imitate Mark comforting him, but he failed terribly. He didn't know what to say, he felt so … empty. He couldn't even comfort himself, so how was he able to make Vic feel better again?

“I deleted the video I've made from her. I really thought she wouldn't jump …” – “I know.”

They laid on her bed, holding each other tight, staring on the dark ceiling. The headache had stopped, which Nathan was thankful for, but he didn't really feel better. His stomach had calmed down, but he didn't know when the next attack was awaiting him.

“Nate?”

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“Promise that we'll be friends forever.”

“I promise,” Nathan said, stroking her hair, smelling her Chanel perfume – it was no. 5 –, hearing sounds which sounded familiar.

“Whales,” he said surprised, and Vic smiled. – “Yes, I loved hearing them visiting you, so I bought some myself.”

This was why Nathan loved Vic.

“Nathan, can I ask you something?” Vic asked, caressing Nathan's arm, nestling her head against his nape. – “Everything,” he replied.

“But I want you to answer honestly. You're my best friend, and I believe every word you say, but I, I don't know … And I promise I'm only asking once, but … Did you really bring Kate to the hospital?”

Nathan froze. He swallowed uncomfortably as he felt his back wetting. For one moment, Nathan played with the idea of telling her everything. How would she react? Would she support him? … Or abandon him? But this one weak moment only lasted for a second, getting replaced by the the terrible fear of the consequences. Vic wasn't dumb and she knew that there was something fishy here. But she didn't want to know, and Nathan knew that she hoped for the answer he would give her.

“Yes, I did,” Nathan replied, and both knew he was lying. “But I don't know what happened next.”

_If I really told you, maybe you would stay by my side, but … I don't know what Mark would do once he finds out, and I have the feeling that he'd do terrible things. I know you like him, Vic, and so do I. I hella like him, adore him, the epitome of what a man could be … but he's a sinner, too, and I know all of his sides, and part of me knows that he won't let you get away like this._

“She woke up in the girls's dormitories,” Vic mumbled, “you think someone brought her there?”

“I do, Vic.”

“Yes, it must've happened this way,” Vic said mechanically, inhaling deeply and lightning two cigs.

They silenced, apathetically staring into the emptiness, listening to whale songs. The smoke raised into the air before it disappeared in the dark corner of Vic's room.

“You think there's anyone who likes us, Nate?” Vic breathed all of sudden, breaking the silence. A question Nathan had asked himself about a thousand times now, and there was only one answer.

“Whatthefuckever,” he said, taking a deep drag, “who gives a shit anyway. We have us, that's more than enough. I'll never leave your side.”

“Yeah, you're right, I guess,” she said softly, “what about Mr. Jefferson? I know you guys barely know each other, but, you know … you think he likes me? Sometimes, I think he tries to hit on Max, but then again, he treats her like shit, and I think he really flirts with me. I hate this bitch for getting him expelled. I can't and won't believe this, and I'm _so_ starting a petition. Some say him and Rachel had sex, but, I mean … you think so, too?”

“They didn't, trust me,” Nathan said mechanically and he forced a smile, “of _course_ he's into you, he always gives you these shady looks, ya know. And he totally checks you out when you're not looking. He's _so_ gonna choose your picture.”

“Glad you say that. He's so sexy and talented, and his voice, _ohmygod_. I won't let neither Max nor Rachel get in my way,” then Vic's voice turned soft, and Nathan noticed a weird note of uneasiness, “… I really wonder where she is, you know.”

“I know.”

Then they changed the topic, and they started talking about Warren and Nathan's not-so-productive improvements concerning their friendship. Vic gave him tips, telling him to stop beating him up if he wanted to hit on him, and Nathan told her to stop being silly.

They kept laying on the bed for a long time, and Vic fell asleep at some point, and Nathan wanted to do as well, but despite of his exhaustion, he didn't manage to do so. But maybe it was because of this one rip pricking into his intestines, too. So he carefully got up and went to his room. Then he took another shower and laid on his bed, and within two minutes, he had fallen asleep, too.

 


	7. Smoke & Liquor

“Why did you do this?!” a loud, broken voice cried, and a bloodstained, crushed face stared at him, the eyes possessed and cold. “Look at me, look what you've done to me! With this face of mine, I'll never be able to go to church again!”

Kate's scratched body began walking toward him, and Nathan cried out. “Get away from me! I didn't kill you!” he screamed, pressing his palm against his head for his pain got worse.

“She's not the only one,” another voice said, and Nathan turned around in horror, “you need to bury her, the way you buried me. But don't get a cold this time, or you're next.” Nathan couldn't believe his eyes as he saw Rachel's rotten body crawling out of the blue plastic bag him and Mark had put her in.

“You're both dead! This is a dream, this is just a dream, a bad dream,” Nathan whispered to himself, rubbing his arms and swaying his torso back and forth. He dared to look at Rachel, seeing her grey moldered face, and maggots were writhing in her bloodshot eyes. It was a terrible sight, and Nathan tried to look back, cover his eyes, but he couldn't.

“You can't look back,” said what had been left of Rachel Amber, walking toward him like a zombie, “I'm not fully dead, Nathan. I will always live in your soul, my death is part of you, part of your soul, and to kill me, you must end your own life.”

“It's not fair,” Kate spoke, and a tear ran down her cracked cheeks, mixing with the blood coming from her red eyes, “why did I have to give my life? Why couldn't God waste it on such a useless life as yours?”

“I'm sorry, Kate,” Nathan screamed with agony, pressing his hands against his head, “I wish it was! I'd exchange it for you anytime!”

“Now it's too late,” Kate hissed, and she began approaching him. Nathan tried to flee, but suddenly, he couldn't move. He gasped as he struggled to breath.

“You killed me! You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!!!”

 

“No, Kate!!” Nathan screamed as he opened his eyes, looking into the dark. His whole back was wet and cold, and tears were sticking to his eyes and cheeks. He lifted his hand, feeling the sharp pain of the wound he had sustained recently. His hand was throbbing and itching, and after fully regaining consciousness, he inhaled deeply.

“Just a dream,” he whispered as he turned on the light, searching for some pills for his head which began to hurt again. Shit, why didn't this stop? He looked at his phone, seeing that Vic had started a petition for Mark, demanding him to stay and joining the winner of the contest to Sisco. Oh poor sweet Vic … she really supported Mark. Nathan hoped that the didn't try to hit on him too much. Not that he wouldn't be pleased to see them being a couple, but … sometimes, Nathan wondered if Mark had any sexual interest besides for his photos. He never talked about a woman or man he liked, and even Rachel, who was said to be beautiful, was someone he had never cared about.

Then he took a look at the messages he had gotten, and he didn't know if he should laugh or cry. He sighed., his sweet beautiful dorky Vic.

 

'NATE I FUCKED UP

I FCKED UP SO BAD' – Vic

 

'natE WHERE TF ARE U' – Vic

 

'i just wanted to flirt w jefferson and then it gOT SO AWKWARD coz he didnt flirt back and tehn I blackmailed him and fuckfuckfuckfucksnsmwndm' – Vic

 

'HE WAS SO PISSED YET CHARMING OML

(T_T)

why am I so stupid' – Vic

 

Nathan sighed, taking his bag and fishing out some pills. _Fuck, Vic_ , he thought while swallowing the pills, hoping the throbbing pain in his head and hand would fade away eventually, _I love you, but Jesus, you can really be stupid. Please don't let me be the one who has to tell you that Mark's not interested. He's dangerous, Vic. I really want you to be happy, but there's some voice inside me, telling me that we should be careful._

Mark. Nathan wondered if his offer was still open. He took a look at his watch. 11:09 pm. Mark was an owl concerning bedtimes, so he was still awake, probably making dinner or something. Then Nathan's stomach started to rumble. He wouldn't mind getting some food.

“Fuck it,” Nathan mumbled, taking out his phone and texting him. Mark didn't take long to respond.

 

'comin now' – Nathan

 

'Dinner's almost ready. Be here at 30.' – Mark

 

Nathan smiled, proud of how well he knew him by now. Then he sneaked out and went to the red SUV. His license plate was shining in the dim light of the street lamps. SXFTNDR. It always kind of reminded him of the series “Six Feet Under” he had used to watch a lot. This whole story was just so morbid yet beautiful that he had been binge watching it every night. He entered the car where he found some Reese's from last week. He grabbed them both and, in a fit of hunger, he stuffed them all into his mouth.

After all that shit with Rachel had happened, he had cursed his license plate, fearing that someone would connect him and the show, and find out what he had done to Rachel. But that was just one of his million fears, figments of his imagination. He started the car and Tangled's “I See The Light” popped up. He froze, then he quickly pressed the buttons of his CD player and threw the disk on the backseat. He held his breath, hoping nobody had heard Rapunzel sing about how happy she was having met Flynn Rider aka Eugene. Nathan still tried to suppress the memory of him having a huge crush on Flynn.

After driving for about 15 minutes, Nathan arrived at the grey villa on the edge of Arcadia Bay. Mark had managed to get the best location, not being too close to the village, but having his own, well, privacy and having his peace from time to time. The gate was already open, it had always been when Nathan had been driving by. This always made him feel welcome, and … like home. Talking of home, this house was, by now, way more familiar than Sean's one. The scent, the atmosphere, the dim lights, the chic couches and the huge windows … even though the villa was pretty old, Mark had managed to refurnish it quite well, making it look modern and pretty prosperous.

Nathan parked his car next to Mark's, it was shiny and clean as always. Then he went to the big entrance door and rang the bell.

“One second!” he heard Mark say, and Nathan looked down on his toes. Then he remembered that he looked like shit, and Mark would probably be just out of the shower, wearing Penhaligon's, his hair gelled and set, smelling and looking like a young god. Nathan scrutinized his fingernails, which were bitten off and bloody, and his hair had seen better days, too. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to save what he could save, but before he was done, he heard quick steps. Shortly after, the door got opened and a wave of warmth and delicious scent spread over him. He emerged from the hallway, a vision in cream silk. – In front of him, Mark Jefferson, smiling at him with his typical bedroom eyes. In the background, some slow Jazz playing.

“You're punctual, for the first time,” he said, smirking at him. Nathan tried to be mad at him and yet he blushed; he had been right. Mark looked like an adonis, while Nathan wasn't sure if his mouth was still covered with Reese's.

Nathan chose to ignore Mark's lovely welcoming, “Can I enter?” – “Sure.”

“Uh, th-thanks,” Nathan mumbled while taking off his shoes the clumsiest way possible, making Mark chuckle. Why did he always have to act so fucking stupid around him?

He went to the kitchen, which was part of the huge living room. The high walls were covered with his old photos, and some of Nathan's ones (which he was very proud of, secretly). Some fire was crackling in the fireplace, creating the coziest atmosphere to imagine; in front of that, the huge dining table and the fancy chandelier. The billiard table in the corner of the room was part of Nathan's best memories of this place; he remembered hot summer nights, the windows opened widely, a soft breeze brushing his body, and Mark teaching him billiard, holding a glass of whisky and his first Cuban cigar. It were some of the best memories Nathan had, and he couldn't hold back a smile; meeting Mark had completely turned his life upside down, making it 100 times worse, and 200 times better.

“Take a seat, I'm almost done,” Mark said, and Nathan obeyed. His heart leaped as he saw the table being set for two. Usually, setting the table and doing the preparatory work for Mark was Nathan's job, but this time, he was just sitting there, smiling about the fact that there was this man, standing in a kitchen apron and still looking hot, tossing the vegetables in butter with more elegance than Nathan would ever reach in his entire life. Some candles were shining, and in the background Frank Sinatra charmed the audience in “The Way You Look Tonight”. Poor Vic, she was the one with the crush on Mark, and still he only cared for Nathan. … He cared for him like a father, and yet he radiated this aura which wasn't fatherly at all, but shady and dangerous and … sexy.

What where they?

“Holy shit, that looks amazing,” Nathan said, seeing what Mark had cooked for them. Mark filled his glass with whisky, the liquor sparkled in the light of the chandelier, and Nathan felt a pleasant shiver running up his stomach; Mark giving him alcohol had always made him feel like an adult, someone you could discuss serious matters with, someone on the same level. Conversing about their newest project, a glass of whisky in the left hand, a cig in the right hand, the clock showing it was about midnight, was the best feeling ever.

“Turkey ragout with French cider and buttered vegetables,” he smiled, and Nathan felt his mouth water. Was there anything this man wasn't capable of? He sat down in front of him, then both toasted.

“What did Victoria tell you about our evening chat?” Mark suddenly said, smiling while taking a sip from his scotch. Nathan looked up in surprise, being in an inner conflict of what to tell Mark.

“She, uhm,” Nathan said, nervously emptying his glass, “she told me she fucked up, and whatever happened, she didn't, uhm, plan it that way.”

Mark laughed, “Well, I believe so, too.” Then he got serious, and he looked at him seductively. “I know that she's interested in me. A lot of young girls are, and most of my former models were, too. So I'm not surprised, and I know how to handle that. I feel bad for Victoria trying to blackmail me, I know she's way more insecure than she seems.”

Mark put his empty plate away, then he lightened a cig, offering Nathan one, as well. “What a shame, don't you think? She's so smart and gorgeous, she really owns this Swinging Sixties style. I know that she doesn't always write her essays on her own, but she still knows more about photography than any of my other students. If she'd just stop wasting her time on trying to hit on me … she may be an interesting affaire, but she's not the type of person I … prefer.”

Nathan swallowed, thinking about Vic. As his best friend, he felt pretty shitty, hearing that Mark Jefferson, her long time crush, knew about her liking him, and knowing that she didn't stand a chance though she was the most handsome girl in whole Arcadia Bay.

“Oh man,” Nathan said, sighing because this story reminded him of two boys he knew, “this sucks ass. So many guys want her, but she always says she wants a real man. She, I mean, she really crushes on you, man.”

“A lot of people do,” Mark said, taking a drag from his cig, looking at him in an unfamiliar way. Nathan blushed without reason, clearing his throat, embarrassed.

“But you still don't plan on … you know? The red binder's still there,” Nathan said cautiously. – “I'm not planning on …? Oh, I understand.”

Then Mark looked at him steadfastly, “I know that there's still a binder with her name on it. And yes, I once planned on framing her. … But I know it's your friend, and I respect that. So believe me when I say that I won't.”

Nathan choose to do so, still thinking about what would happen if Mark decided to drug Vic. He used to change his mind very quickly, and he knew what he wanted. If the day would come when Mark would want to frame her … what would Nathan do?

He didn't know.

“Well,” Mark said while standing up, winking at Nathan, “let's not talk about business. How about dessert?”

 

“The one with the whale!” Nathan said, receiving his hot chocolate in his favorite cup with the handle forming a whale. Mark always put in some rum, making the cocoa taste even better, and every time Nathan sensed this unusual yet delicious taste, he knew that he was with Mark, and perhaps, things weren't as shitty as they appeared to be.

Mark's lips formed a thin amused smile, “You're the only one I know who combines hot chocolate and brownies.” He sat down next to Nathan, putting his arms on the back of the black couch. On his right, Nathan who was slurping his cocoa and eating his brownie at the same time. Mark was such a square, who didn't like brownies and cocoa?!

“You're a pig,” Mark chuckled, and Nathan chose to ignore him.

“I'm just hungry.” – “When aren't you?”

Then Mark took out one of his red binders and started analyzing his old photos of Deanna. Nathan had used to join in, but regarding the recent events, he didn't want to think about her. Mark talked about their techniques, and how much they had improved throughout the months, and that Kate had been the first one to wake up during the session. But it was more of a collective monologue than an actual dialogue. Nathan looked at Mark, staring at his face while he was talking, scrutinizing the way he raised his eyebrows while talking, observing how his beard was moving while forming the words. Nathan closed his eyes, feeling the residual warmth of his hot chocolate, listening to the soft Jazz and the crackling of the fire. Why couldn't his beard be as full and even as Mark's? He had always wanted to have lots of body hair, being super manly and shit, and instead there wasn't a single fucking hair growing on his face besides his eyebrows.

Warren had some facial hair, but he shaved it, which was probably the best. He was a lot more masculine than Nathan, but a beard would't fit his sweet face. Nathan inhaled melancholically.

Warren.

He tried to resist, but he couldn't stop thinking about his deer eyes, about the way he looked at him after beating him up. Beating him up. Nathan was such a stupid piece of shit. The only boy in his life, the only one he wanted to touch, whose body he wanted to feel against his own, whose lips he wanted devour, whose hair he wanted to smell and to pull when …

Oh, Warren.

“Hey Nate,” Mark said, startling Nathan who blushed, feeling his groins burn. Mark pulled a face, “You're getting red, who you're thinking of?” Nathan held his breath, embarrassedly running his fingers through his hair.

“W-what the fuck, n-no one …!”

Mark chuckled to himself, then their eyes met, and Nathan smiled clumsily, secretly facepalming because he was acting so stupid again. He looked down, noticing himself fidgeting with his hands, feeling some sort of uneasiness. Then he looked up.

Mark was still looking at him in an unfamiliar way. Nathan swallowed. He held his breath, trying to avoid looking into his steady eyes again. What was happening right now …?

“You're cute, why don't you have a girlfriend?” Mark asked, and for the first time in ages, his voice sounded weird and … undefinable. Nathan couldn't handle staring back, so he continued looking down.

“The Blackwell chicks are all ugly,” he lied briefly. What should he do? Tell him about his wet dreams of Warren Graham, the one he had almost knocked out, the guy who was so obviously in love with Max Caulfield it was ridiculous? … A fatherly chat, probably. Mark trying to find out about Nathan's love life, showing him that he cared about him and his life in general, about his feelings.

“Hm. You think so? What about Victoria? She's gorgeous, and you guys seem to be pretty close.” – “She's the hottest, every girl's jealous of her, but … we're just friends.”

Then, Nathan had the courage to stop averting his gaze, and he looked into Mark's dark eyes. “What about you, Mark? Why do I never see you checking out some ladies? And why don't you have a girlfriend?” Him and Mark had gotten very close within the year, but Nathan realized that they had never talked about this topic before. Sometimes, he thought that Mark had some chicks here and there, but then again, he would've noticed, wouldn't he?

Mark just laughed, “I'm not interested in this kind of … relationship.”

Nathan felt Mark's arm in his nape, and he pressed his lips together, feeling his heart race. Why was Mark acting so strange? And what did he mean by that? Now, him and Nathan had always been pretty close, maybe a bit too close for being teacher and student, but none of them had been bothered, on the contrary: Nathan had been glad to have someone stable in his life, who could calm him when he got another anxiety attack and who cared about him like no one did, and Mark liked to have an easier access to girls and an apprentice, someone he could pass on his knowledge. That was their silent agreement.

Nathan put away his cup, and suddenly, he felt a wave of tiredness and exhaustion swapping over him. He tried to hold back a yawn, but he failed. Mark finished his drink, then he lightened another cig, but Nathan didn't want to join. Slowly, he felt the events of the whole day lasting on his shoulders.

“Nathan, why do you call your dad by his first name?”

“… A few years ago, I've gotten a panic attack, but it wasn't the average attack. I couldn't like, breath and stuff. This was some next level shit, and I screamed at Sean for calming me. Back then, I have missed my mom and I knew that there was something Sean didn't want to tell me. But he pretended like he wouldn't know me, and … uhm,” Nathan got quieter, feeling the old rage getting relighted again, “since this day, I pretend like he's not my father, too.”

Mark didn't say nothing; instead, his sympathetic look rested on him. “It's been a long day, and you need some rest,” Nathan could hear Mark's soft voice say, and he slowly closed his eyes, “you want to sleep?”

But Nathan shook his head, lightly, trying not to fall asleep, but the warm fire, the blanket and Mark's fragrant scent made it hard not to. Truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what is is merely by contrast, as Ishmael would say. Nathan felt like he had been cold his whole life.

“ … I know that you only wanted to show me that you understand my work, and that you wanted to surprise me,” Mark said quietly after they had silenced for a while, “I'm not blaming you for anything.”

Nathan smiled lightly; he had thought so for a long time, believing that Mark would despise him for killing Rachel, trying to be like him.

“And Kate Marsh's death is not your fault, Nathan,” he assured him while taking off his glasses.

“I feel so safe when I'm with you, Mark,” Nathan mumbled, starting to fall asleep, “you cared for me like a father. Not my shitty one.”

“I believe in you, Nathan. I always did.

“Promise … promise to never leave my side,” Nathan whispered, starting to doze off, “you're the only one I have.”

“I promise.”

 

“You hair is so soft,” he could hear Mark's smooth voice say, “and your skin … so pale. Like porcelain.”

Then Nathan's head fell on Mark's shoulders, and he smiled tiredly, thinking about him being with Mark, being able to forget about all the shit that had happened.

Being able to rest.


	8. Marbles Sparkling

WEDNESDAY

 

The next morning, Nathan got woken up by soft sunbeams shining through the grey curtains. He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself laying in Mark's bed. When did he go there? … Then he remembered. _Right_ , he thought sleepily, rubbing his eyes, _I fell asleep on the couch, and he carried me to his bed._ Then he blushed, feeling like a child who needed to be taken to the bed and getting a bedtime story.

No nightmare this time? Nathan was confused yet pleasantly surprised. He should stay over much more often than he already did.

He let his fingers run through his hair, noticing that it was messy and sticky from the styling mousse. Then he looked around the room. Mark's side of the bed was already made, as always. Some photography books were laying on his bedside table. Then he turned around, seeing the huge bondage photo hanging above the bed. It had been made in his cellar, his own Dark Room where he had drugged the girls before he had known Nathan. It wasn't as big as the one under the Prescott barn, but still … What where the women thinking who stayed the night?

“Oh, did I wake you?” Nathan heard a voice say, and he saw Mark leaning against the door frame, perfectly styled and dressed up, one hand was resting in his pocket, the other one was holding a cup of coffee.

Nathan shook his head. Mark _could've done_ , though. Nathan always felt so weird waking up when Mark was already ready. Sometimes, he woke up with a message of Mark, telling him that he had class and that he should get himself something to eat. But Mark never had any sweets, so Nathan always raided the fridge, taking out the only things which tasted good and weren't absolutely healthy. But Mark _had_ improved; lately, he'd been buying Nathan's favorite cornflakes.

“Did you sleep well?” Mark asked while taking a sip from his coffee. Nathan nodded, still tired.

“What class you're starting with today?” – “World History … with Caulfield. Ugh.”

Nathan shoved the white sheets away, then he stood up and headed to the bathroom when he suddenly heard Mark say, “Breakfast at Two Whales Diner?”

Nathan turned around, then their eyes met and both of them smiled. “We can go to the beach beforehand, if you want,” Mark said, “maybe we spot some whales.”

“Almost ready!” Nathan shouted while dashing down the stairs, almost tripping and smashing on the ground.

“Be careful,” Mark yelled, but Nathan had already disappeared in the lower floor, “and brush your hair for once!”

 

Half an hour later, another part of Nathan's life had turned to shit.

“Nathan, come over here,” Mark said while Nathan was apathetically staring at the dead whales laying in front of them. He put an arm around his shoulders, but Nathan couldn't move. A week ago, he had read that this had been the time for whales swimming near the coast, making them easy to spot and observe. Him and Vic had wanted to go to the beach, watch them and make photos of them. Then, it hadn't worked out, and Mark had suggested to go with him.

“You must be shitting me,” Nathan breathed, staring at the majestic creatures, laying on the beach like a dead fish's inedible remains. Thrown away. Their empty eyes were staring at him, like marbles sparkling in dead flesh.

“What the fuck is happening to Arcadia Bay,” he said bitterly, sobbing and wiping of some tears he had been trying hard to suppress. “Look at that, Mark! Look at, look at these … these …”

Nathan tried to continue speaking, but he got overwhelmed by a sudden show of deep sadness and rage. He clenched his fists, trying to escape Mark's grip, but then he gave up and let him hold him.

“There, there,” Mark said softly as Nathan struggled to breath because of crying, “I know what they mean to you.”

“Fuck! Fuck it all! First the snow, then the eclipse, and now the dying of animals,” Nathan yelled, “and d-don't say that they've been swimming into the wrong direction, I've seen dead birds this morning, they're … they're falling from the fucking sky!”

“I know,” Mark said quietly, “I've seen them, too.”

Then he put out a tissue, giving it to Nathan was rubbing his swollen eyes. His red nose was shining like a Christmas bauble, and he apologized for ruining Mark's jacket.

“Never mind,” he said, then he patted Nathan on his back, “come on, Nate, let's get something to eat.”

 

After eating a Belgian waffle (and ignoring the waitress totally checking Mark out) and talking with him about the strange events, Nathan started to feel better. At some point, he saw that creepy drug dealer coming in, and both pretended not too see each other. Frank ordered some beans, making disgusting noises while he was eating in the corner of the room. Then Nathan showed Mark the petition Vic had started, and Mark smiled, flattered and surprised by so many students supporting him.

_If they knew._

Mark got a call from Wells, telling him to meet him at Blackwell. He wanted to talk with him about the contest he had been expelled from, then Mark payed for the breakfast and patted Nathan on his shoulder.

“See you at school,” he said, and Nathan, disappointed about Well's call, nodded quietly.

Then Nathan proceeded to eat his waffle, staring on the table, slouching his shoulders over his plate. Now that Mark was away, he felt like crying again. Apart from that, he felt the pain in his head for the first time in 24 hours, so he bitterly took out some pills, two blue ones and a white one, and swallowed them with a Coke. Then his whole body shivered, and in a fit of tiredness, he rubbed his eyes. Sometimes, he felt like a wooden rotten house which was about to collapse. When would that moment be …?

He heard some steps going into his direction, and he looked up, wanting to take a look who had the nerve to take a seat exactly in his corner.

 

_“Sorry girl, not my type of model. Try again, Rach.” – “Why don't you wanna frame me? Or are you more into like, y'know, male models?”_

 

“Rachel …?!” Nathan said breathlessly, opening his eyes in surprise. _Fucking Christ, I thought you were dead! I thought I buried you, I thought I …_

Then he looked again, and what he saw was so not Rachel Amber.

“Ugh, whatevathefuck?” he said, looking into Max's derp face. He could've cried. For one second, he'd really thought that … whatever.

“Oh look, 'Max Amber'. Nice outfit,” _not_ , “by the way, thank's for getting Mr. Jefferson fucking expelled, you twee bitch. You're lucky this is a public place …”

If there was someone Nathan could've used least at this very moment, then it was Max fucking Caulfield.

“Considering we're in a public diner with a police officer right over there, you shouldn't advertise your rage, Prescott.”

When did they start using surnames? Geez, Max wanted to be cool so bad. He suddenly wanted to break her nose so bad, but she was kind of right. Officer Berry, this weird creep, had been spying on him, again. He wanted to turn around, looking at him, but him and Max had a thing going. She really thought she'd figured it all out.

“You're so stupid, Max! You think you're so goddamn smart, too! Don't push me, girl,” he said, getting annoyed by her stupid voice. He just wanted to eat his waffles, it really wasn't that much.

But Max didn't let up. She insisted chatting with him about Kate, probably taking notes or some stuff. Nathan knew that she did a lot more than the police had done, trying to find out about Rachel or Kate, but him and Mark were _so_ throwing her off the scent. Still, he needed to be careful. Max was running around at Blackwell, telling everybody that she suspected Nathan of having drugged Kate, but while talking to Max, Nathan noticed pretty quickly that she hadn't got any solid proof for her allegation. Later on, Max apparently thought that she had gained his confidence by asking about his father, but Nathan wasn't stupid. Nobody besides Mark and maybe Vic have a single shit about him or his father, let alone about him. … Not even Kris.

“Spoiler alert: He's an asshole,” he snarled. Why couldn't she just mind her own business, and spare him her conspiracy theories of him drugging Kate. “Now fuck off, dyke.”

He looked out of the window, hoping that she was done with her cross-examination. Boy, was he wrong.

“Prescott.” – “Holy shit, what do you want _now_?”

Max continued babbling about Kate and Rachel, and Nathan was just sitting there, trying to ignore his throbbing head. _Shit_ , he thought – he hadn't felt anything recently, and now, everything he had been spared of was attacking his head at the same time.

On top of that, Max suddenly mentioned Rachel's and Frank's creepy ritual. “Blood oath? Who–? What the fuck? I never told anybody about that freaky shit!” Nathan yelled, remembering the disgusting photos Frank had proudly shown him back then. How did Max know about this? Did she have some fucking superpowers like mind reading or something? Whatever it was, Nathan wanted some, too.

“Besides,” he said, not caring about Frank and him being in the same room, “everybody knows Frank is a liar and a loser! Even Rachel did.”

“Yet Rachel Amber hung out with him more than you.”

Max crossed her arms, and Nathan tried to hold back a smile. This girl really needed to get her facts straight. But, who cared anyway, her thinking that he had a crush on Rachel Amber, who was a brat, average looking and _dead_ , was a lot better than knowing that he was a faggot.

“So? Rachel wanted Frank's stash. She let him take pictures, then he carries around her photo like she posed for love. Dumbass.” Did Nathan know anything about Rachel and Frank's weird affair? No. Did he care? No. Why did _every_ conversation end up being about Rachel Amber and who she was? Dead and buried. That's what she was.

Max seemed to have gone all insane now, trying to get Nathan's help for getting some dope. Now that Rachel was away, did Max plan on take her place and pretend like she was her or the fuck was happening? Then Max tried to chat with him about who had slept with whom.

“Like you would know, virgin,” Nathan hissed. Max probably thought that Nathan spent his weekends partying all night and hooking up with some hot chicks, and there was nothing Nathan wanted to do more. To be normal. Instead, he jerked off to the guy who was in love with her, who had eye-fucked her probably a thousand times already in class. So much for _virgin_. Nathan hadn't got this much action in his whole life. His first kiss with a living person was some months ago with Vic, just because he wanted to find out if he was really gay.

He was. He fucking was.

Even though Max looked like she had never taken a baby aspirin, he told her about Frank's dumb codeword which was not obvious at all ( _high_ er education – really?), just hoping that she would finally piss off. Then she went to Frank and got on his nerves instead of Nathan's.

 

Nathan took the bus to the dormitories, then he tried to relax. He closed his eyes, sensing the light breeze on his skin. For the first time in weeks, he felt like making a photo. He took his backpack, fishing out his new monochrome, which was more expensive than half of Caulfield's scholarship. Did it make him happy? Not anymore.

He looked around, searching for an object to shoot. But there was nothing, which deserved to get framed by his 6 grands camera. There was a squirrel, eating some nuts, and out of desperation, he lifted his camera, probably scaring it. It dropped the nut and ran away, revealing the bird which was laying behind it. Nathan looked closer: it was dead, reminding him of the whales from the beach. He swallowed, being in two minds – one part of him wanted to cry, to run away and tell everybody that the climate change couldn't be more obvious, that this was the pay-off of the people clearing wide areas of trees, exterminating and exploiting animals, polluting the oceans, wanted to cry because he couldn't stand seeing death everywhere he went, attracting it. … The other part desired to take a photo.

He fell on his knees, then he pointed the lens into the direction of the miserable creature, its legs sticking up stiffly, and before standing up and bringing all of this to a stop, all of his weird, creepy and sick desires, his finger had gotten possessed by pushing the shutter. The flash lighted up, and his work was completed.

He looked at his photo, fascinated and disgusted.

Nathan proceeded walking to his dorm. He entered the corridor, seeing all of the guys' hypocritical quotes on their slates. What about “will bang 4 jesus”? Nathan hated all of them and their lying asses.

After entering his room, he remembered what Mark had told him about his second phone a week ago.

“We can't afford getting caught, under no circumstances,” he had said, waving his phone, “if you lose it somewhere, and someone finds it, we're fucked. So put it somewhere safe.

Even if someone would find it, nobody would know that his passcode was his birthday, since … there was nobody who remembered his birthday. Nathan looked around the room, searching for a good place to stow it. He knew that if he would put it in some drawer or behind his bed, he wouldn't find it ever again. So he took the phone and threw it under the sofa.

Doing that, he noticed this dumb porn magazine laying under his table.

“Butts'n'boobs,” he said scornfully, “why didn't I throw this shit away?”

Then he remembered: this disgusting shit had been a pretty good camouflage, and back when Hayden had gotten him this, Nathan had acted _so_ not normal, desperately trying to make the guys believe that he was into this stuff. Women and stuff. In fact, he couldn't stand looking at these girls. Well, he didn't like the guys in porn, too, and he still jerked off to them, but all of this was pure satisfaction of his libido, which had been _pretty_ high some years ago. He preferred men with class. Well, Warren wasn't _exactly_ a man, but Nathan knew for sure that he got some abs, and he was bigger than him, and if “class” meant making silly puns and memes and having a folder full of live hacks, then yeah, Warren was pretty classy and an idiot. But he was Nathan's idiot.

… Right?

Nathan sighed, cursing himself for thinking about Warren again (was Nathan really _that_ masochistic?), then he put on his headphones and put on some some whale songs, while sitting on his bed, silently scrutinizing the paper art thingy, which was basically playing the whole day. A project he had made in 10 th grade. There was no actual story behind it, Nathan just liked to watch _Southpark_ and thought about doing handicrafts made of paper and filming it.

Nathan hadn't watched anything since ages. Not even “New Romantics”, his favorite show. His gaze wandered over to the “diploma” Sean had gotten him. “This diploma certificates that Nathan Prescott is officially the best son in the world!!!” Nathan sniffed. By now, seven years later, there wasn't much left of this diploma. Just a souvenir of what had once been. Back when Kris and Nathan had been inseparable, and Sean hadn't thought of Nathan as a loser and a sick fuck who liked to photograph dead bodies.

 _Best son in the world_ … Nathan was a piece of shit, nothing more.

He looked at the photo of Sean and him sitting on the stairs, smiling. – Well, Sean was smiling. Nathan was crying, and as far as he remembered, this stupid marine costume had been way too thick for this hot summer day, and he had been hungry and Sean had shouted at him for being too fidgety. … Why did he still have this stupid photo?

He looked around the room, seeing an old piece of paper hanging out of his drawer. He looked at it for a second, then he stood up and pulled it out, hoping for a split second it was a secret message, a tiny confession of love, maybe from Warren?

Of course it wasn't.

Nathan sighed, looking at Chloe's terrible handwriting. “Hey asshole, we need to talk, or im going to tell everybody what you did, and youre going to pay motherfucker“. He had found this this love letter a few days ago on his car. So stupid of her thinking she could mess with Nathan, member of Arcadia Bay's oldest and richest family. Almost endearing. She was lucky that Nathan hadn't blown her fucking ass off. Nathan sighed again: sometimes, he said these things to himself, hoping to sound more hard-core and masculine than he actually was, trying to cover up the fact that he would go insane after killing another girl. He took out his gun and looked at it. Back then when he had threatened Chloe, he hadn't realized that it had been loaded. He didn't know shit about guns, so he had thought that he had taken out all of the ammo, but apparently not. After finding out, he had gotten a huge shock. If he actually had shot Chloe, he probably would've gone insane.

Just thinking about this, his head started to hurt again, and he searched for some pills, but couldn't find some.

“Of course,” he mumbled, standing up, “the lockers …”

Nathan used to take some pills after gym, so he went to the boy's locker rooms. While heading for his locker, he passed by the bulletin board and bazillion notes hanging there. He saw the note he usually ignored as well. The missing-cat-pics note. It had actually been him, stealing the tablet. It was laying somewhere in his room. He had been drunk and it had been laying on the school's campus, and he had been jealous of his or her great cats. Back then, he had been a nervous wreck (not _that_ much of a difference compared to today) and he had been missing Ahab a lot.

He went to his locker and took out his pills, and of course, because he was a stupid idiot, he managed to drop the box, making some pills falling on the ground.

“ _Fuck_ ing hell,” he grumbled, sitting on the floor while picking up the pills, when he suddenly noticed something, “could that be …? No.”

He grabbed the tiny instant photo. “My, my,” he said, looking at the only thing Max knew according to Vic, “a selfie, of course.”

He went to his room again and got himself something to drink and swallowed the pills (it was so much more comfortable adding water to it), then he took Max's selfie and sticked it to his wall. He glared at her.

“Whatevathefuck you've been doing in the boys' locker rooms, you noisy bitch, I'll make sure to never forget your average face. You don't mess with a Prescott,” he growled, “I'll make you regret snitching on me, and reporting me to Wells, and I'll take care that your life will be shittier than it already is. Nobody gives a fuck about you and nobody will ever– Ugh, shit.”

He rummaged around in his pockets for his phone; he looked at the display, seeing “Queen” and the bee emoji.

“Yo Vic, you cool?” he said walking around the room. He looked into the mirror, seeing that Max's scratch marks from two days ago still hadn't disappeared. If they'd stay, Nathan would make sure that he wasn't the only one with a mark.

“Hey Nate, I just … I wanted to hear your voice, that's all. It's been a shitty week so far,” Vic mumbled, and Nathan swallowed quietly. – “True.”

“I, uhm, I don't know why I'm calling. I'm shopping with Taylor, but, I just … I can't stop thinking about Kate and all, her death really gets on me,” her voice was soft and broken, and Nathan just wanted to hug her tightly. He sat down, looking at his shoes.

“Me, too,” Nathan said honestly, “I never thought I'd say this, but we went too far. … But, it's not our fault.”

“Yeah,” Vic said, inhaling deeply, “she, she _had_ the choice.”

Nathan nodded silently, rubbing his face while falling on his back. He stared on the ceiling, while both said nothing to each other for a long time.

“Anyway,” Vic said, and her voice started to sound like one of the old Queen Bee he knew, “sooo, you wanted me to organize the End of the World party – finally, my time to shine –, and so I did. I'll send you everything, and yes, of course I'll tell you beforehand what outfit I'm gonna wear.”

She laughed, and Nathan smiled. Talking trash with Vic and just hearing her voice made him feel a hundred times better. “You better do, bitch. Don't wanna think about last time, _so_ not couple goals,” he said. Dior dress and Holloway college jacket. It had been a catastrophe.

“Yeah, I remember,” she laughed, then her voice turned serious, “by the way … did you know that Warren struggles to pay off his scholarship?”

Nathan swallowed, “No …”

“Courtney said that Stella said that Warren told her this,” she mumbled. – “You sure 'bout that?” Nathan asked quietly, but he knew that Vic wouldn't tell him something she wasn't totally sure about.

“She said, Stella had blushed talking about Warren, she said she _so_ has a crush on him.”

Nathan couldn't blame her. _Me, Stella, Brooke … Seriously though, who hasn't??_

“But, you know,” Vic said, trying to sound bitchy, but she failed, “she's _so_ ugly, so don't you worry 'bout her. I just … you know, she said he was worried if he could afford staying at Blackwell. He needs about ten grands. Poor bastard.”

Nathan swallowed. Even though Vic didn't give a shit about Warren, she knew that Nathan did. She really cared for him. She was his angel, Nathan was glad to have her.

“Anyway, Taylor's calling me. We'll talk later, okay?” she said in a soft tone, and Nathan nodded. – “Alright. Thanks for telling me, Vic. Love you.”

“Love you, too, hon,” she said, kissing the phone, “stay strong.”

Then the hung up the phone, leaving Nathan on his own, who now knew less than before. He didn't know what to think. He'd always thought that being rich was a burden, but he'd never seen in from some other side: Money didn't make happy, and sometimes, you even lose the ones you love, because they couldn't keep up.

Nathan laid on his bed, hearing his whale songs, looking at Max's selfie on his wall. She looked so pure and naive. But Nathan knew that there was something in her, some part him and her were connected to, something they had in common. But he didn't know what it was.

_Don't try to fuck with me. I don't believe you, playing the role of the sweet hipster girl, who never does anybody harm. Why couldn't you safe Kate? Looks like you hadn't played such a good role in her life than you'd thought. Do you hate me? I guess so. You're Moby Dick and I'm Captain Ahab, only the difference is that it's me who's gonna win this fight._

_I know what you're doing, and I won't let you get away with this. You think you're so close finding Rachel, but if you'd open your eyes, you'd see that everything you need is already in front of you, and the one you're searching for is thinking about doing the same to you._

Nathan closed his eyes, thinking about Stella and Warren. Another girl he needed to take care of, even though he didn't even know how she looked like. … Him and Max, cat and mouse. They were both possessed by an idea, but he did everything to hide the truth, while she did all she could to establish it. And at the end … one would win.

And that wouldn't be Max.

 


	9. Of a Girl and a Boy

“I'm not paying a hundred fifty bucks for a concert,” Zach said, sitting cross-legged next to Nathan, who was leaning against a tree. “Sorry bro, ask Hayden, I'm broke.”

“Dude, you shitting me? That's your _pocket_ money,” Nathan protested, “am I right? He should go to Lorn with me.” Nathan looked to Maxine, who rolled her eyes. She was cute, especially when she was annoyed by him, which – unfortunately – happened a lot. Nathan held back a grin; he wasn't even mad.

“You can't expect everyone to carry around a hundred dollar bill just for breakfast like you do, Prescott,” she said, crossing her arms. There it was – that famous Caulfield look, judging the hell out of you. Oh, how Nathan loved it.

“Well then I guess I have to invite you,” he said with a smirk, winking at her. She blushed, trying to hold back a smile, but the redness was shining through her freckles. Her sapphire blue eyes were wandering from left to right, like an innocent deer, which had heard a suspicious sound, and she was trying to search for a cheeky response, but she kept quiet, averting her gaze.

“Geez Nathan, stop flirting, it's pathetic,” Courtney said mechanically. – “Shut your dirty mouth,” Nathan laughed, playing it cool and succeeding with it. The squad giggled, talking about Courtney always being such a bitch. Max was smiling shyly, and Nathan couldn't stop looking at her.

“Thursday's gonna be _so_ fetch,” Vic said, bending forward, “Courts, could you organize all of the party supplies, if ya know what I mean?”

“Who do you think I am, bitch,” Courtney said, taking a drag and passing on her cig, “sure I did. But you know what pisses me off? Listen, you see that guy over there? He said the Vortex Club parties were full of zombies, the fuck does that mean? Some ugly guy trying to be ultra hipster.”

“Preach it, sista,” Vic said, and both kept on bragging about nerds. While doing so, Nathan bended over as well, facing the girl next to Vic who had been silent for a while. Nathan knew that she wasn't the extroverted type, and sitting all together, hearing music and bitching about life wasn't as easy for her as for Vic or Courts.

“Yo, Mad Max,” he said, and the deer eyed girl looked up, “you cool?”

“Oh, uh … Yes, now I am,” she said shyly, and Nathan flushed. She smiled tenderly, then she brushed a strand behind her ear. Nathan pressed his lips together, forcing himself not to grin like a complete idiot.

_Maxine Caulfield, why are you so beautiful?_

“I, I just wanted to ask … uhm, so, Go Ape's still a thing? We could, I mean, if we're hungry, we could get something to … I mean, only if you want, we could –“

“How about dinner beforehand?” she chuckled, and Nathan smiled clumsily. – “Y-yeah, good idea!”

Both of them smiled, and she averted her gaze, blushing again. Nathan felt a warm wave of tender feeling splashing over him, and he dried his sweaty hands on his new blue cardigan.

“Nathan, back to bidness,” Zach said, pulling him off cloud nine, “I'm not paying a hundred fifty bucks for a concert.”

“Whatevatehfuck,” Nathan sniffed, “you can get your broke ass off this grass now, because the Prescott's fucking own that one, too.”

“You're rich, we get it. A shame money can't buy beauty,” Zach said and Nathan thumbed him in the ribs. – “You should talk, with that ugly ass face or yours.”

Him and Zach continued fighting, until Nathan noticed Maxine being somehow distorted … lost in thought, more than usual. Nathan didn't know why, but for a second, she kind of seemed like she had no clue where she was. The deer looked around in confusion. Vic noticed, and, being as straight forward as she was, stared at her.

“Hello, are you even listening, Maxine?”

Maxine glanced up, staring at Vic like she'd seen her for the first time. Then she slowly opened her mouth, saying “Max, never Maxine.”

“I know, sorry Mad Max. You're not pissed at me, right?” Vic said, looking at her insecurely. She tilted her head, but Maxine didn't respond.

Max …? What a silly name, never had she ever insisted on being called Max, even though everybody did except for Nathan and Vic. Nathan frowned, observing the spectacle in front of him, seeing Max changing in a heartbeat. What the hell was happening?

“Do you want to go hit the girl's potty and smoke 'em peace pipe?” Vic said, but Maxine didn't look at her. Nathan observed her strange behavior with a mixture of fascination and uneasiness. This chick had always been unpredictable.

“I think Max is high,” Courtney claimed.

“She's acting, like, so weird. … You cool, Max?” Taylor asked, and everybody turned their heads to Maxine.

“Nobody listened when I said we shouldn't let her in the Vortex …” Nathan heard Courtney say from above. She had always been jealous of Maxine, because Vic hung out more with her than with Courtney. She also had been really pissed, since Taylor had asked Maxine to join her visiting her mother. But Nathan knew that she wasn't as bitchy as she wanted everyone to think. After Maxine had asked her to help her with her outfit for the next club party, they had started to bond.

“Courtney, you don't want anybody in the club,” Taylor said, and Courtney rolled her eyes. – “Like, whatever bitch.”

Nathan looked at the others staring at Maxine; seeing Hayden laying there, checking her out, made him furious. He once had tried to hit on her, but Maxine had pushed him away, and he had called her a bitch. Nathan had gotten so pissed that he had almost broken his nose.

All of sudden, Maxine stood up. Nathan stared at her, but she didn't care about the others. She looked worried, almost terrified, frowning like something horrible had happened. Then she ran – what the hell was going on?!

“What the –“ Nathan said, and he wanted to call her name, but she was too far away, staring at Warren and his girlfriend. Nathan clinched his fist thinking about this fucker.

“What the _fuck_ did just happen,” Taylor yelled.

“As I said, stoned as fuck,” Courtney said with her constant bitch face, looking at her nails.

“Bitch gone wild,” Hayden yelled. – “Shut the fuck up,” Nathan hissed, and it got quiet. Hayden glared at him, giving him _that_ look. Nathan knew that he liked Maxine as well, but she would never hook up with such a jerk.

“Shit, she _is_ pissed,” Vic said, shaking her head in dismay, “what did I do? Was it my fault? Maxine … she's my bf, she would tell me, right?”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Nathan said indignantly. Vic ignored him, running her fingers through her hair, stressed. “I better text her.”

Vic stood up, excitedly typing a message for Maxine, and slowly, the squad started to get up and do their own things. Nathan headed for the boy's dormitories, left in confusion. Maxine's face … there was something about it, which had made him feel uneasy. This unfamiliar look in her eyes… Last time he had asked her if she wanted to join the squad getting breakfast at Two Whales Diner, she had denied. She needed to develop her photos in the dark room. But then again, yesterday when they had been photographing the whales – before they had been washed up off the shore –, she had been absolutely lovely, nothing had been wrong. Nathan smiled thinking about yesterday – it had been their third date, so to speak. They had met Frank, providing them with some dope. After photographing, Maxine and him had went to him, smoking a joint and she had complained about him naming her Shih Tzu. Nathan had just laughed, telling her that his name was Rott, which wasn't any better.

Nathan closed his eyes, enjoying what had been left of this beautiful day. He saw that creep Samuel doing some stuff at the entrance of the dormitories, and Nathan chuckled, thinking about the last time him and Maxine had called him a pedophiles, telling him that the kindergarten was the other direction, and he had almost fallen off the ladder. Or this one day when Alyssa had been trying hard to look sexy, and Maxine had thrown a paper ball at her, asking her why she was playing hard to get when she was already hard to want. Alyssa had started big huge whale tears, Nathan and Vic had bursted out laughing. Later, him and Zach had sprayed it on the school's wall.

Nathan entered the dormitories, walking down the corridor to his room, grinning like an idiot about what Maxine had written down on his slate a week ago.

 

~ Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile. ~

 

She had written it after getting threatened by Warren, who probably wanted some stash or something, since his family was broke. Nathan had stepped in and had to take a black eye, but that was ok. He had been Maxine's rescuer. Warren hadn't talked to Maxine again. Now, Nathan sometimes saw him standing with this girl, and Nathan didn't know why, but it made him feel kind of … uneasy. There was a sting in his heart seeing them, but he couldn't find out why or what it was.

Before Maxine had written that cute pick-up line on his slate, Nathan hadn't known if she was interested or not, since she got along well with everybody, but when she has asked to frame him with her polaroid, he had known that she also felt … this way. He looked at the other slates, noticing that none of them had such a cool slate as he did. On the contrary: seeing all of the guys' hypocritical quotes on their slates, being sorry for Kate Marsh and everything. What about “will bang 4 jesus”? Nathan hated all of them and their lying asses. Seeing Kate macking with some dudes had been such a blast. Crawling on the ground, high as fuck, trying to pose for the camera even if she had been stoned and hadn't realized shit, and _everything_ on tape. Unfortunately, it had been deleted by some narrow-minded, lame ass fucks, who didn't know how to have fun. Luckily, Maxine had the original one still on her phone – who had known that she wasn't only a brilliant photographer but a great film-maker, too?

He put on his whale songs, then he took a look at his phone. One unread message from yesterday evening.

 

'Hey lil bro, I just wanted to tell you that it was soooo nice to see you again. Having dinner with you and Maxine was awesome, she's such a sweetheart! I understand why you like her so much (and don't give me this look, I KNOW you do). Dad's realllly sold on her, he even remembered her full name the whole evening. I think he still doesn't know Jack's name haha. We need to go on a double date!! Anyway, I'm still in town for some days, so let's hang out once more like we used to when we were kids.

XOXO' – Kris

 

Nathan grinned, he loved the fact that Kris and him were still as close as ever.

He looked at Maxine's selfie he had found, hanging on his wall. Seeing her, his heart got lifted up. Her and Vic made things so easy. Back when him and her had met for the first time, Nathan had been annoyed by her, trying so hard to be a hipster, and being such a smartass. Now, she was the girl Nathan secretly dreamed about, the girl Nathan hoped to be his first and only girlfriend.

“First I hated you, I thought I could never score with you, and then I couldn't help but fall for you,” he mumbled, facing the tiny selfie of the deer-eyed girl. “Life is … weird.”

 

A crashing noise wrenched Nathan out of his sleep, almost giving him a heart attack. He sat up straight, startled. His eyes went wide in fear, and his blood ran cold when the noticed something on his window. Then he swallowed, drying his sweaty hands on his shirt, which he took off afterwards. His whole back was wet, and his cheeks were burning. The bird, which had collided with his window, was dead, and Nathan took a deep breath, trying not to freak out.

“Crap,” he growled, rubbing his eyes, before he tried to search for his phone in the dark. 23:34 pm. What the fuck. He had slept through. He grabbed some pills, swallowed them while retching, then he stood up, almost falling over. He wiped off the sweat on his forehead, then he rubbed his eyes. Shit, his whole body was a disaster, his internal felt rotten and dead. A walking corpse.

Then he looked at the tiny photo hanging from his wall, dim light was shining on it.

“Maxine,” he sniffed, “what the _fuck_ did I just dream. I don't give a flying shit about you, Maxine, and you'll never be part of the club, and you're not _cute_. You're a stupid noisy snitch, a pathetic wannabe hipster who could never mess with me. Don't try to fuck with me, hoe. Rachel's not there, she will never be seen again, and you know it.”

He clinched his fist, suppressing the desire of punching her shitty selfie. “Rachel's dead, and it's never gonna be normal again, get it? This stupid dream, it's a fucking _dream_ and it will _never_ be reality. She's dead! You hear me? She's DEAD!”

 

Then he collapsed as he covered his face, sobbing bitterly.

 


	10. Too Young to Burn

THURSDAY

 

Nathan woke up, for the third time this night. He lifted his eyes, which were swollen and red. After he had vomited for the second time, he had locked the door because he had been sick of Zach coming into his room, telling him to stop that shit.

But, of course, Nathan couldn't explain. If he had told him why he was acting so fucking strange, he wouldn't have believed him anyway … and he would have reported him to the police. So he couldn't tell him why he'd been sobbing for hours, vomiting on the boy's bathroom from crying too much, making him cry because he was such a pathetic peace of shit. He hadn't want to admit it, but the dream had hit him hard, and he had cried, because it had felt like playing a role in a theater, a finite play, with a scripted ending not as fucked up as his one. But then he had woken up, and he had realized that his end would be different from the one he had dreamed. Rachel was still dead, and Kris hadn't visited him in months (and she had broken up with Jack two years ago), Sean didn't give a shit about him nor his girlfriend Nathan would probably never have, and at the end of the day, Nathan was still in love with none other than Warren Graham, and _it_ was spreading.

Nathan's head was exploding. He stood up, and everything was a blur. His movements were so frigid, and lifting his hands and arms suddenly felt impossible to do. His back was wet and cold, and his heart was racing. His body felt like an old house, which was about to collide, the flames were devouring the rotten beams, but from the outside, it looked like a mansion, which was absolutely alright. But these moldered beams, the wooden scaffold was infiltrated by maggots and decay. He felt … drugged. Depersonalized.

Nathan turned on the lights and looked at himself in the mirror. When did he start to look _so_ fucked up? His eyes were red and murky. His eyelids tried hard to stay where they are, to hold his eyes open, and they felt heavy and looked like they were sinking in a dark shadow. Nathan's face also looked pretty gaunt, like he had smoked for years and hadn't eaten since. But then again, he didn't remember when he had eaten something you could call food apart from that waffle with Mark. His room was dark, and sometimes, Nathan heard some things, but he couldn't tell what it was … the healing made some weird noises, and sometimes he had got waken up, hearing some one say “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, Rachel”, and he had looked around in fear, seeing no one.

Nathan sighed feebly. Mark. He hadn't played a role in his dream, and still, Nathan had somehow known that he had been there. He had still drugged Kate, and had killed Rachel Amber. … Still, nobody knew, and everybody liked him. None of them had accused him of being in love with Warren Graham, but how could they: he hadn't been. He had been in love with that stupid hipster girl, and he had went all crazy about her childish freckles and her attitude. He had looked at Warren once, seeing that he had been dating Stella, and there had been this weird sting in his heart he hadn't been able to define. Now, Nathan knew what it was.

This alternate reality felt _so_ real yet so weird, like a beautiful nightmare.

After sleeping for some hours and hoping he wouldn't wake up with a stomach as nervous as it had been before, he slept until noon. After some weird ass dreams (but no lucid ones like his last one), he knew he couldn't continue this way. He needed some stronger medication than his pills, which did stop his headache, but not the weird things he heard.

He contacted Frank about some dope, then they set a time they wanted to meet. While putting on his clothes, he got a message from Mark.

 

'I'm assuming you're not attending school, so I need you to meet me, you know where.

There's something I want to talk with you about.' – Mark

 

Nathan had actually planned on taking a shower, but he was afraid that he would fall over like last time, and aside from his greasy hair, he didn't smell bad, so he put on a shirt and a cardigan, then he took his jacket and lightened a cig while he went out. His squad was chilling on the school's campus, and Nathan tried to ignore them, but of course, Vic saw him. She waved at him, smiling. Nathan sighed, saddened and somehow sobered. _Oh sweet Vic. You have no idea who you're hanging out with._ Things had gotten so much shittier and more complicated by now.

Suddenly, Hayden stood up, then he ran to him. Nathan swallowed uncomfortably. He was wearing his douche look, hooded, arrogant eyes, a quarterback jacket and a cig in his hand (but not the expensive one).

Suddenly, Nathan noticed that he pretty much looked the same.

“Wassup bro,” Hayden grinned. Nathan didn't know how to react, also he didn't have the nerve to talk to him. If he hadn't been that fucking insecure, he had laughed at this stupid joke, but … even though everybody thought so, Nathan knew that he hadn't had any self-confidence at all. Sometimes, he wished to be as cool as Warren, of course he wasn't _cool_ , but … he somehow appeared to be above it all.

“Fuck off,” Nathan said, proceeding to ignore Hayden and his black eye. Nathan made sure that Hayden couldn't see his chapped knuckles.

“The _fuck_ is wrong with you, bro,” Hayden whispered smiling, forcing a grin while looking to the others, who were staring at the two boys in confusion, “you're acting so fucking strange. Where's my bro Nathan? I wanna be honest with you, 'cause you're my bud. You've changed throughout the months.”

Hayden looked at him in a mixture of forced kindness and honest sympathy. For one second, Nathan felt his stomach turning upside down, felt like crying and explaining everything to the boy who had used to be his best mate.

“I don't have time for this shit,” Nathan said instead, thinking about Mark and how mad he got at Nathan arriving too late. God! No wonder Hayden was talking trash about him – Nathan was insufferable.

Hayden tried to smile, waving at Vic, then he looked at him again, and his expression changed. He glared at him, pointing at his black eye, “I'm a fucking quarterback, you know who ya messing around with, right? I don't know what kind of creepy shit's going on in your pathetic life this time, but you're completely fucked up, you know that? Look at you. You look like a junkie. The fuck happened to you? You dad shoved too much money up your ass?”

“I said: Get the fuck out of my face, _now_ ,” Nathan hissed, trying to ignore his headache. But Hayden continued. “Zach couldn't sleep because of you puking, bro. Everybody's talking about you,” Hayden said in a threatening manner, gnashing his teeth, and his dark eyes glared at him, “they laugh at you and your crappy life. What's wrong this time? Are you depressed because daddy bought you the wrong boat? Poor little rich kid.”

Then Hayden intended on walking off, but he turned around, looking at Nathan in a weird way. “Oh, and … they're talking about that fag Warren Graham. But calm down bro. I know you ain't into him. Would be pretty embarrassing, if the club's president would be jerking off to a dude, especially to an autistic nerd like Warren Gayham. I mean … what would the people say.”

Hayden looked at him in an unfamiliar way, but before shitting his pants out of fear, Nathan managed to open his mouth, hissing, “Wouldn't be as embarrassing as a pathetic attempt of sexting Vic. Pretty disappointing dick pic, by the way. But hey, at least you don't have to fear me crushing on you.”

Hayden's face froze, and Nathan went off to his car, feeling his heart race. Embracing another part of his sickness instead of denying it. Nathan didn't know if he should smile proudly or cry with fear off getting busted.

 

Nathan typed in the passcode for the second time this week, then he opened the door and entered the Dark Room. He paused; no music. Nathan wasn't sure if that was a good thing, since there hadn't been a meeting without some Jazz music in the background. Even during their sessions, Mark enjoyed some musical accompaniment. Nathan took out his box of cigs, which he really had to refill, then he fished out his lighter, but before he could have his smoke, he heard Mark's stern voice say, “For the millionth time, I don't want you to smoke in here, so put that shit out.”

Nathan pulled a face, and for one second he thought about resisting, but then he obeyed, noticing that Mark's voice was firmer than usual. He seemed tense, lost in thoughts about something complicated. Nathan wondered what it was. Mark hadn't looked at him yet. Quite unusual; there was something amiss this time.

“Nathan, it's serious,” Mark said, covering his mouth with his hands while brooding over some of Kate's and Rachel's photos, “I've talked to Max just the other day, and … I have a bad feeling.”

Nathan threw his jacket over the sofa, an the plastic rustled (Nathan hated the fact that Mark insisted on covering it with that stupid film), then he came closer, taking a look at the red binders, noticing the one with Vic's name on it as well. He swallowed; no, Mark had promised him that she wasn't next. He needed to believe him … there was no one else left he could trust.

Next to the photos, there was Mark's old letter laying, telling Nathan to stop calling him by his phone and screaming his name in public. Back then, abut half a year ago, Mark had called it teen-rage. Nathan remembered Mark writing him this. It had been written by a completely different Mark Jefferson. He hadn't known Nathan and how serious he was about it. Now, Mark and him were closer than ever. Nathan wondered why the letter was laying there.

“I've been thinking,” Mark said as he was looking up, and his eyes widened in surprise, “what the– Holy shit, are you alright?”

Nathan gave him a questioning look, feeling Mark's warm hands cupping his face. His brown eyes were staring at him though the glass. “Please don't say that you've driven here high.”

“I'm not high,” Nathan snarled, shaking his head and escaping Mark's grip, “I'm just … tired.”

He wasn't high. _Yet._

 _“_ I'm serious,” Mark said, standing up and taking a seat on the sofa, “I'm not gonna pick you up from the hospital again, pretending to be your father. If you fuck up taking drugs properly, it's not my problem. I'm tired of this shit, Nathan.”

“Holy crap, calm down,” Nathan hissed, “I'm not fucking high. Got it? What do you want?”

Nathan sat down next to him and the stupid plastic squeaked, then Mark gave him a firm look. “As I said, I've been thinking. Max and I have talked and she continues telling everybody about you drugging Kate, even the police and Madsen. But Kate's not our main problem … I don't know why, but something tells me that her and this punk girl Chloe are closer to find Rachel than every member of the police. They start to get dangerous.”

Mark silenced, and Nathan stared at him, trying to figure out what was happening underneath that brown, groomed hair. Nathan never knew what Mark was thinking; something he loved and feared at the same time.

“… I've changed my mind. I think it's better to have a break for some time.”

“A break …?” Nathan replied. “You mean …”

“What I want to say is … let's stop at this point. If Max really manages to somehow prove that you drugged Kate and that you never took her to the hospital, we're fucked. It's too risky. We'll continue when it's absolute safe, but at this moment, it's not.”

“Oh,” Nathan said, not being sure what to feel. On the one hand, he was sad to know that he wouldn't have an excuse to spend time with Mark, because he somehow thought that this would continue the next years, and that he wouldn't have to worry about school at all. On the other hand, he was kind of relieved to hear that there was one thing he didn't need to worry about at this moment. He didn't know if he would manage to endure another session, seeing this empty look on the next girl's face.

“But don't get me wrong,” Mark suddenly said, standing up and walking through the room, “we'll still finish what we have begun.”

Nathan looked up in surprise, and before Mark could tell him, he knew exactly who he meant. He jumped off the sofa, staring at him, shocked.

“No …! This, this is a joke, right?” he screamed, but Mark just looked at him with his dark eyes. Unimpressed. “I knew it. I fucking knew it all the time. You want her, right? You want Max to be our model!”

“… Now, I've been thinking about this a lot, and normally, she wouldn't be my type, but her eyes–“

“I know, I _know_ , her eyes are so un-fucking-believably innocent, and her stupid freckled nose, sticking it into _everything_ that's none of her business. Whatevathe _fuck_!” Nathan screamed, glaring at Mark, but he wasn't frightened. He stared back with a look a lot firmer than Nathan's.

“Here we go again – the teen-rage,” Mark said, rolling his eyes and putting his hands on his hips, which made Nathan even more furious. – “You fucking kidding me, Mark?! You wanna frame that bitch who got me reported and got you expelled from the contest? She doesn't deserve it, she's not even worth having her stupid face on one of her shitty instant photos! I told you what I think of–”

“And I told you that I don't give a shit,” Mark said with a look as cold as ice, “about what you think of my models. I'm your _mentor_ , and you're my _apprentice_. Maybe you'll understand when you're older.”

Mark's last sentence made Nathan blush with rage and shame, hearing that Mark didn't think he had an eye for their photos. “Listen here,” Nathan screamed in an outburst of rage, but he paused as Mark cut him short.

“No, you listen. Yes, I do believe that Max's different from the others. In some sort of way I haven't already figured out. _But_ ,” he said, and he squinted his eyes like a cat, “try to _think_ for once, goddamnit. Of course I'm not gonna photograph her just because she's some girl with mysterious blue eyes and a polaroid.”

Nathan tried to figure out what he meant. His gaze confusedly wandered to Mark, who looked like he had been thinking about this for quite a while now.

“I'm gonna photograph her and then I'm gonna give her an extra dose, then I will bring her to the hospital. I'll tell them that I found her during the club party. I know the concentrate, and I will dilute her dose,” Mark said and a judgmental look was lasting on Nathan's shoulders, and the shame crawled up his spine as he thought about what that look meant, “she'll stay at the hospital for some time, and she won't be able to continue her … investigations. But there's something different about Max, and I hope you'll understand that, but this time … I want to do it on my own.”

“You, you want to– Why?” Nathan asked, disappointed and relieved at the same time. It was true that he probably wouldn't stand another shooting, and Max's lifeless eyes would probably make him fall over and black out again like he already did some days ago. But then again, why didn't Mark want to involve him?

The answer was brief and plausible. “I don't want you to get in any more trouble than you already are,” Mark explained, “and I see that you're not feeling well. After Kate's suicide, you've been devastated. I'm so glad you're feeling a little better now. You're too young to burn.”

Nathan swallowed uneasily, noticing Mark quoting something he had once screamed to him during a panic attack, telling him that he felt like his body had been set on fire, and he couldn't stand it any longer.

“Don't get me wrong, but …” Mark, who had been glaring at him a minute ago, now looked at him tenderly, and his voice turned smooth again as he carefully approached him, lifting his hand and stroking Nathan's cheek. He rested his fingers on Max's scratch marks.

“There's so much at stake, and on top of it your well-being. Now, I know you're disappointed, and you think that photographing Max is wrong, and, you know, it's not like I don't understand that. We're working together since one year and the last models have been chosen by _us_ , and framed by us, but … I know what seeing Kate Marsh did to you, and I want to wait some time before I expose you to this again.”

Nathan swallowed, trying to resist the urge of hugging Mark back, who put his arms around him. Nathan sensed Mark's perfume, and it felt like he was doing it for the first time since ages. The long-familiar warmth and the feeling of Mark's beard tickling his cheeks teared him back into the past, like a wave of nostalgia, and Nathan couldn't help but let his body being carried away. He closed his eyes, wishing capturing moments was as easy as taking photographs.

“It's not your fault, Nathan,” Mark whispered, and Nathan knew whom he was talking about. Yes, he had bullied her, he hadn't thought about her feelings, but at the end, it had been her, who had jumped … right?

“Thanks,” Nathan whispered, and tears were running down his cheeks as he spoke his next words, “I don't know what I'd do without you, Mark.”

“You don't have to,” Mark said and his words lifted Nathan's heart, then he looked at him with his calm hazel eyes, who told him everything was alright, life wasn't as shitty as it seemed. Even though it was just an illusion.

 

“After all, we're a team.”

 


	11. Tragedy

Meeting Frank at the beach had been easier in former times. A few weeks ago, Nathan could've just driven to his car, giving him some stash and getting his weekly dope, but now, they needed to meet near the forest. 

“Is the mutt gone?” Nathan asked, and Frank was giving him a vicious look. – “His name is Pompidou and it's not his fault that you've got a fucking allergy to dogs,” he hissed, “… but yes, he's in my RV.” Frank scrutinized Nathan for a second, and Nathan was glad that this dumbass believed him saying that he was allergic to dogs, when these animals actually freaked the shit out of him. As a little kid, Sean's coworker had visited once, bringing his huge German Sheppard who had almost attacked him. Since this day, Nathan couldn't stand these huge mutts.

“Man, you look like shit,” Frank said, frowning, while his eyebrows formed a weird shape. Why did everybody have to emphasize that?! Nathan wanted to answer that Frank needed to look at himself in the mirror, since he was the one walking around like a junkie, but Nathan had already fucked up some deals that way. Frank clearly wasn't pleased to see him, but Nathan wasn't as well, so he liked to think of them as business partner, that's all. – Nathan gave him his stash, and Frank provided him with his stuff.

“I'm serious, Rott, you should go see a doctor or something, your eyes are bloodshot and you're pale as fuck,” Frank said, scratching one of his neck tattoos. He was so disgusting, Nathan needed to try hard not to puke. How the fuck did he think that Rachel was really interested in him?

“Not that I care about you in person, but you're my client and I don't want anyone to think that I'm thinning down that crap. My stuff is absolutely clean and trustwo–“

“Whatthefuckever,” Nathan said, fishing out some bills without looking, starting not to care anymore, “enough?”

Frank took the money, hesitated for a second, then he took out 50 bucks and gave it to him. “I'll take the rest. Peruvian flake, as requested.” Nathan took the white powder that came in a tiny sack, wanting to put it in his jacket, when he realized that he had forgotten it in the Dark Room. He let the cocaine glide into his pants pocket, then he started walking off, when Frank suddenly said, “Hey Rott, you know what?”

Nathan turned around, and Frank grinned like an idiot. “Guess who I just talked to an hour ago,” he said, and Nathan didn't have to think hard.

“That girl with the tatts and the blue hair, and her friend, how was her name …”

“Max.”

“Oh, you know her,” Frank smiled innocently, “ha, they play investigators, have been pretty sure about finding Rachel. They, uhm, they wanted my client list. … Can you imagine that? I don't think that, you know, they'll solve the case, but …”

Frank paused for a second, then he looked on the ground, and his look got soft. He smiled lightly, “But what if they will? … Nathan?”

Frank watched Nathan suddenly walking of, making his through to his car. He felt his heart racing. He fished out his phone, then he typed in Mark's number; his hands were sweaty and shaky. Mark didn't answer the phone, and after the third try Nathan spoke panically, “Mark! I've talked to Frank, he said Max and Chloe were close to find Rachel! Shit!! Mark, what do we do? If, if they're gonna find her, I will go to … FUCK! Mark, answer that fucking phone!”

Nathan threw the phone on the seat, then he concentrated on driving again, even though his head felt like it was spinning, and he couldn't keep his thoughts still. Frank seemed pretty sure about the two girls finding Rachel. Nathan didn't want to think about what would happen if they'd find her corpse. Maybe the junkyard was too obvious. But then again, it was just right – most of the time, people didn't see the demons when they were right in front of them. … Or they didn't want to. _Ignorance is the parent of fear._

Rachel … Nathan thought about Frank again. Of course Rachel didn't love Frank. Rachel loved someone completely different.

 

_“Sorry girl, not my type of model. Try again, Rach.” Nathan said, lifting his camera and looking at the monochrome of the deer skull he had just made. Rachel tilted her blonde head, peeping at Nathan's camera. “Pretty dope cam. How much grands? Two, or three?”_

_Nathan sighed, trying to focus on that photo. Why was everybody so obsessed with how much money his father made? “Dunno, could be about right.”_

_“I wish I was that rich. 3 grands, and you fuckers would never see me again,” Rachel said, lighting a cig. Her red lips stained her cig, and Nathan thought of Vic. Then she laughed, in a mixture of amusement and bitterness, “… Your life must be easy.”_

_“Not in a million fucking years, sister,” Nathan said, sniffing, “try growing up with an asshole, who prefers your perfect sister over you and not canceling a meeting even if you're laying in hospital with three broken rips because some bullies–”_

_Nathan silenced, and Rachel gave him her cig; he took a deep drag, then he stared at the deer skull, laying in the forest._

_“Why don't you wanna frame me? Or are you more into like, y'know, male models?”_

_Nathan blushed, then he raised his head, and he glanced at her brown eyes. Some long blond lashes were surrounding them; Rachel's ones were different than the other eyes he had seen. They somehow seemed … wiser. Like she knew a lot more things than most of the people did, saw things from a different perspective. He opened his mouth, trying to talk his way out, but the moment he had formed the first word, he knew that it didn't matter what he said. Rachel already knew._

_He turned his head, making sure nobody would see them. “H-How did you–“_

_“That was easy. No guy dresses as well as you do, even if your closet consists of Ralph Lauren and Abercrombie & Fitch . Oh, and you never stared at my tits – ever,” she winked at him, and Nathan blushed again; then she smiled tenderly, and in her eyes Nathan could see that in this moment, she was somewhere else, “… and, well, you feel when someone's, you know … just the way you are.”_

_Rachel and his eyes met, and Nathan understood._

 

Rachel Amber. The first girl Nathan had kissed, and she hadn't even been aware of it.

 

While driving, Nathan got another headache attack, but instead of taking a pause, he continued until he arrived at Blackwell again. He slowly got the feeling that he didn't care about anything anymore. He was pissed that he hadn't got any pills, and the throbbing pain in his head didn't go away. It accompanied him every step that he took, like a demon in his neck, stabbing him when he didn't think about it, a shadow following him, crawling up his spine. Nathan felt like he was getting weaker every day. His body felt heavier than ever and his heart was racing in the most random moments. He wanted to knock back some pills, but for getting some he needed an appointment with Dr. Bill, whom he hated more than anyone. But at least he had his cocaine, which turned off his senses, made him … numb, anesthetized his feelings and thoughts, made him forget about the horrible picture of Kate's head splattering, which had burned into his mind.

For one second, Nathan thought about turning back, driving home and ringing the bell of Sean's door and his new wife who was some years older than Nathan. But then he thought about the last time he had done that, which had ended up in Sean yelling at him for not being at school and disturbing him with his work, giving him some extra pocket money and telling him to fuck off and “buy something nice”.

He arrived at the school's lot, then he parked his car when he saw a blonde pixie cut next to a silver Lexus with the license plate “GSSPGRL”. Vic and Courtney were about to drive off, but before they did so, Vic noticed him, running over to him.

“Vic!” Nathan yelled, and he felt his heart lifted up as he saw his Queen Bee. Her smile was so damn cute and sassy, and Nathan sensed her perfume – this time, it was Prada's “Candy”. Nathan already knew that one.

“I don't have much time,” Vic said excitedly, “I'm gonna go shopping, Courts and I need some new shoes for the party, and we're gonna look for some party supplies. Where you from?”

“Got some dope for the party tonight,” Nathan said, and he took a look at his SUV. Vic nodded, taking out her black Gucci sunglasses she had bought during a shopping trip with Nathan last summer.

“Very nice,” Vic smiled, and her pink lipgloss was shining in the sun, “have you talked to your father about the alcohol? Anyway, remember the trip to Paris I told you about? I talked to daddy, and he said that he'd be glad if you'd join us like last time, Christmas in France with my best friend would be _amazing_. Oh, yeah, and he's still sorry for the crappy airline, next time he'll take his private jet.”

“Oh, great,” Nathan said, but he hadn't really listened to Vic and what she had said about the trip, since he had been stuck on her question about Sean. He looked at her with a gloomy look, then he blinked some times.

“I … I don't remember the last time I've really talked to him.”

Silence. Vic stared at him for some time, then he smiled uneasily. “You don't look good, Nate, and you've been acting … strange lately. Maybe you get some rest before the party.”

Then she looked at his car, and she laughed, “I can't believe you're still driving around in that junker. You're so weird, I love it.”

“It's the one Sean gave me some years ago,” Nathan said, and suddenly, he sensed a warm feeling in his stomach, and a faint nostalgic smile played about his lips. Then he looked on his brown leather shoes, feeling a lump in his throat. “… Vic, can I ask you something?”

Vic looked up, and Nathan's gaze remained averted. “Is it wrong, that … I sometimes wish not to be a Prescott, not being like us? … Like _this_?” His voice was deep and quiet, and he swallowed the sadness which was rising up in his stomach.

Was it wrong, wishing to be born in another family? Not having a burden like the last name, laying on his shoulders, just being free? When Nathan had been younger, he had thought that money had been able to buy everything, and he was still absolutely convinced that money could make happy. His six grands monochrome camera mad him happy as fuck.

But it didn't make these voices stop.

“Don't be ridiculous, Nathan,” Vic smiled lightly, putting on her black sunglasses, and defined lips were showing her white teeth. Then she lifted her hand and put it on Nathan's cheeks, covering his scratch marks.

“Everybody wants to be us."

Nathan watched her and Courtney driving off, seeing the sun beams shining on the silver hood; shortly after, the car disappeared behind the trees of Blackwell's avenue, leaving Nathan in the lot, staring at ground and noticing his tears wetting the paving stone.

 

Nathan walked across the campus, noticing Mark's old photos hanging everywhere. Back when he hadn't used drugs, when he had thought that the girls would manage to create photos as authentic as he wanted. Initially, he had wanted to fake the innocence, but then he had gotten tired of the girls failing this specific facial expression, and photographing them while sleeping hadn't been as good as it could've been, too

So he had needed to get creative.

Nathan saw the birds and squirrels laying around, and Samuel having a hard time picking them all up. Nathan knew the look on his face too well; a mixture of bitter sadness and resignation about what was awaiting them. Nathan had experienced the same feeling when seeing the most majestic creatures of the sea, laying on the beach like some trash which had gotten washed up. _Maybe Samuel's right_ , Nathan thought for the first time, while secretly observing him picking up the birds, _I sure don't believe in this spirit-animal-bullshit, but if this was true … then seeing these squirrels must suck ass. Maybe Samuel's the only person who believes that there's some shit going on as well. The snow, then the eclipse, and then the dying animals … that must've been nature trying to warn us all._ For the first time, Nathan swallowed thinking about the name of their next club party. End of the World, what an irony. Who had come up with this retarded name?

… Oh, well. None other than the club president in person.

Nathan was heading to the dormitories, when he stopped as he saw this specific brown fuzzy hair he loved so much. Nathan held his breath and creeped to the entrance, trying not to be seen by Warren and the girl he was talking to. Nathan wasn't sure, but he believed it was Stella, the girl with the drone. Nathan sucked with names. While sneaking to the door and avoiding Warren seeing him, he observed him talking to this girl. She seemed to be upset, and Nathan believed that Warren was trying to apologize for not going ape with her. Nathan remembered Max pissing Warren off, and he immediately got angry again; the classics were the best movies, and Max needed to get her shit together concerning Cannibal Holocaust.

Nathan loved these films, and there was no universe where Warren would've asked him to go watch them with him, but if he would've asked him, Nathan would've said yes the second he had asked.

 

Nathan, frustrated and downcast, entered his dorm, when suddenly blue hair flashed for a second. Nathan didn't have the time to wonder who this blue hair was belonging to, since he suddenly got another head attack. This time, it was a hard one. Where were his fucking pills when he needed them?! He put a hand on his forehead, contorting his face with pain, but he comforted himself, saying that he could take a sniff the second he entered his room.

But this should wait.

He opened the door to his dorm, standing in front of Max and Chloe, who were holding something in their hand. For a split second, Max's and his eyes met, and they were staring at each other, equally surprised at seeing the other one. His eyes widened in anger.

“What are you doing in my dorm?” he snarled. Why was it so un-fucking-believably difficult to have one's fucking privacy without some noisy dykes sniffing around in his life?!

Chloe, cowed and caught off-guard, took a step back, and Max followed, hiding whatever they had found behind their back. _Now you're not so strong, you stupid ho._

“You are such a nosy bitch, Max,” Nathan yelled as he was walking toward her, oh how he enjoyed seeing her fearful face. _That's right, you slut – you better fear me, or you get in hella trouble._ Nathan couldn't lie, he hadn't felt this superior in ages, and it was satisfying as fuck. It reminded him of holding that gun against Chloe's stomach.

Finally, he had been feared, respected. If none of his friends did, he needed to command respect himself.

“Stop right there, Nathan!”

“Make me, ho.” What a cute thought of Max, thinking she was able to intimidate him, and how little she knew that Mark was actually planning on drugging her, the teacher she had probably a huge crush on, the one she trusted. How innocent, almost endearing.

Nathan, still struggling with getting the attack of the day, sensed Chloe pushing him away, triggering another strike into his head. He tried not to pull a face, while he was in inner turmoil, remembering the last time having an attack and awaking to Kate Marsh's voice. Nathan's cheeks were burning with rage, and he clenched his fists, taking a swing.

_Why can't they just leave me alone?! Why do they need to find Rachel, sniffing around in my things? I just want everything to be normal._

It _had_ been, when Max hadn't arrived yet, when there wasn't a stupid Max trying everything to piss him off and a Warren fucking around with his emotions, giving him the hardest time of his life while showing him what a stupid faggot he was.

Why couldn't everything be just–

“Max, I got this!”

 

Nathan gasped, as he realized who was standing in front of him, glaring at him like a warrior; dark red skin was framing his brown eye, a brown shirt showing the most epic emoji Nathan had ever seen. Nathan stared at Warren, and his stern look was burning in Nathan's eyes, torching his internal and his heart, and in this moment, Nathan would've rather grabbed it and teared it out, instead of enduring this pain while seeing him defending the girl Nathan threatened. The girl he loved.

Nathan looked at Warren's red full lips, and he would've given anything to … He looked into his eyes, and if Warren would've looked closely, he could've seen Nathan's heart, writhing in pain, screaming his name. It was so obvious, and yet nobody noticed.

But Nathan had a role he needed to play, had to hide his secret from the others, and from himself, and that's when love turned to frustration and frustration turned to hate. Hate against Max, hate against Warren's feelings for her, and hate against himself.

“Get the fuck out of my face.”

But this time, Warren had changed, and Nathan knew what was coming the second he had screamed his last words, had seen Warren gnashing his teeth. He widened his eyes with shock, the next second he felt a blunt pain on his forehead, and he fell on the ground. A female scream sounded, and Nathan realized that Warren had smashed his head on Nathan's.

Nathan, paralyzed with shock, stared at Warren, who was moaning as he felt his head. He gasped, not being able to move. _You hurt yourself in order to hurt me, trying to protect Max. You … you must really hate me. I am the reason for you to be … a man. To stand up against your bullies._

_Alright,_ Nathan thought when looking into Max's eyes, seeing the mixture of dark fascination and blank horror she experienced while seeing the guy she thought she had known, _I will play along. I'm the bully, the weird rich kid, the role I have played my whole life. I'm used to it. I will do you this one favor. I will put on the mask you gave me, and I will wear it with the same passion you want from me. I will take a role in your play, and it will be the best performance you'll ever see. Now see, you fuckers, better be glad for the Nathan Prescott you pretend to know._

Nathan held his breath while blank rage was rising up his spine, _if you all want me this way …_

_Then you get me this way._

“You are so fucking dead!” Nathan yelled, outraged and frustrated, grabbing his gun when suddenly, it was the main actor who broke out of his role. Nathan sensed a sharp pain in his hand, then he heard his gun falling on the ground. Seconds later, Warren and his roles had gotten completely exchanged. The pain was drilling its way into his stomach, which felt like it was shattering.

“Get off me, brah!” Nathan screamed, but Warren didn't stop. He gasped, struggling to breath, as he sensed the burning pain in his rips getting stronger. He wanted to scream, but no words left his mouth. His body felt like it got ripped apart, and Nathan started to sense blood. He couldn't move; all he could do was looking at Warren, seeing his face, so full of hate, so beautiful that he wanted to cry. Nathan wanted to scream, but another kick into his stomach took away his breath, and he was writhing in pain while begging Warren to stop.

It had been ages since Nathan had felt this much pain, since he had begged for some help, and it had been ages since he had been this ashamed of himself. There he was, his love, the guy who lifted his heart, whose sight was making Nathan's day a hundred times better, the little nerd he loved and desired. There he was, beating him up for a girl.

At this moment, Nathan had never felt this alone, and there was a voice telling him that Warren wouldn't stop, and why? The realization burned into his mind like his regular head attacks: because there was no one left Nathan hadn't pissed off, who had one single fuck to give about him, no relationship left Nathan hadn't fucked up. Nathan hoped Max enjoyed this performance, because this was the real Nathan Prescott. Somebody no one cared about.

“Warren, stop it! Come on!”

The words were shooting through the corridors of his head, and Nathan looked up, seeing Max who was dragging Warren away from him, and he could't believe what he had just witnessed.

… Max had protected him from Warren. Max, the one Warren had saved from Nathan, twice. The girl who had gotten bullied and texted by him, had gotten threatened and insulted … this girl had more decency than his friends.

Nathan swallowed, feeling the burning shame like a wave, making his back sweat and his heart race. He looked into her frightened face; this couldn't be …!

“Ow … my head,” Nathan said, astonished and in pain, seeing the shocked eyes of Chloe and Warren, and feeling like a tiny wounded rat laying on the dirty floor, “why are you looking at me like that, huh? You … and you … you're all dead!”

He stood up and grabbed his gun, then he held his stomach, holding back a scream because of the pain. He flushed with embarrassment, seeing their looks. He had never felt this vulnerable and pathetic in his whole life.

“Plus my dad is on his way! You're all fucked,” he screamed, coughing because his stomach felt like it had gotten twisted, “he … he owns you!”

But the three ignored his pathetic attempt of threatening them, and Nathan somehow made his way to his room. Then he fell on his bed, sobbing and whimpering while holding his stomach. It hurt more with every pant and he tried to hold his breath in order not to vomit because of the pain.

Nathan hoped that this would be the climax of this fucking play he was tired of playing. His role had changed, but in a way that couldn't be worse. He wanted it all to stop, Nathan couldn't stand everybody staring at him, like an audience, fascinated by the recent outcome, hoping for an end that suited Nathan the best.

Nathan, the most hated character. The antagonist, who wanted nothing more than not being part of the play.

 

He took out his black American Express, his Peruvian flake, and the curtain fell.


	12. Anesthesia

Sometimes Nathan wondered why he was always so negative – in fact, everything was absolutely great, right?! Well, yes, Warren had beaten him up, but Nathan hadn't fought back, right? That was because he hadn't wanted to hit him – or had he hit him? Nathan didn't remember, but whatever he had done, it had probably been the right thing. Nobody messed with a Prescott!

… Warren was so beautiful, so hot, Nathan wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him until he passed out, and then he would photograph him, frame him in every corner of his and Mark's Dark Room, and then hang his pictures onto the walls of his dorm room. Nathan sensed a warm feeling spreading out in his body, like balloons flying up in the air, and he grinned. His body got lifted up and didn't belong to Nathan anymore, and he observed what it was up to. Sometimes, his body felt like dancing, then it felt like laying on the ground, feeling the cold floor, getting covered in the wood. Nathan looked into the mirror, and even though he couldn't see shit, he knew what a un-fucking-believably fantastic looking bastard he was facing. Warren wouldn't be able to resist Nathan's seductions, and Max, that stupid bitch, wouldn't be his main hoe anymore.

Nathan felt his face, and it was _so_ intense. Right at this moment, he was able to feel every inch of his body, and then again, he didn't feel anything at all. He looked up. Shit, his paperback film was a masterpiece. Nathan was an artist, a creator, so much more than everybody thought of him. Than Sean always thought.

What was Nathan just thinking about?

… Warren! He would drag him into the shower and suck his dick, and Warren would take him from behind and do him, fuck yes. Rachel Amber was such a twee slut, she did really think she could mess with him, but Nathan's photos were special and not everybody had the chance to be on his lens. Christ, Mark was such a sex god, and even though Nathan loved Warren and shit, he had a huge crush on Mark. He knew that Mark wanted to mack with him, _everybody_ did. Once Nathan had gotten a boner when he'd been laying next to him, in his bed, feeling his strong back. Mark was his god, his savior, the most perfect man, who ever existed. Nathan wanted to open his pants and jerk off to him again, but then he realized that he didn't wear pants.

What did he want to do again …?

Sean loved Nathan, and both knew it! All Nathan ever wanted was his attention, his recognition, him being proud of him. He loved him, oh god, he loved him so much! Kris just wanted to be like Nathan, and Sean cared so much about him and supported him, it wasn't all fucked up, and if he didn't care about him, then he should eat shit and day. Nathan didn't give a shit about him. Nathan hated him more than any person! He could never be like him!

God, his body felt sooo good. Like cotton candy, the rose one. Rose, Nathan fucking loved this color. Why did Vic never want to try ? Vic was the best, she was a goddess. Nathan jumped off the bed and looked at the blacked out windows, and he loved the color of the dim light shining through the curtains. Finally, he didn't feel depressed again, didn't hear any voices in his head, telling him to go to Rachel Amber, and to make picture of Kate's crushed head.

Finally, Nathan _felt_ something again. His body. He felt his fucking body, and it was awesome, like ten orgasms at the same time, better than the first session with Mark.

God, he loved Mark so much. He cared for Nathan, who was a little piece of shit, he must've been Jesus. No, Nathan was Jesus – nobody could mess with him! Nobody!!! Nathan took out his phone, then, in a fit of rage, he typed “Pussies cant fukin fite”, but he didn't know who he was texting. Then he throw away his phone while screaming like a bull. Nobody messed with a Prescott! NOBODY!

Nathan laid back again, and his life began for a moment … or stopped for one moment.

… Who said that?

Nathan startled, then he widened his eyes, looking into the dark, which felt closer and oppressing than ever. There was a voice …! Nathan looked around in fear, rising his head in terror. Nathan stared at the bed, and for a split second, he saw Rachel Amber laying on the bed.

“No!!!” he screamed, as he covered his face with his hands. “RACHEL!!”

Suddenly, he heard a voice, and he flinched. “She's dead, she's dead, you buried her,” a voice whispered and Nathan gasped, trying not to collapse. Where?? Where was she?! Why was she alive? Where was she hiding? These little swinish eyes saw everything and everyone …!! Why didn't Sean love him?! A minute ago, Nathan had thought that he loved him, but now his mind was sane again, and he knew that it had been his imagination, telling him everything was fine. But it wasn't! Nothing was fine! Everything was a fucking mess, his life was a fucking mess!!

“You killed me, so why don't you kill yourself?” Rachel whispered, and Nathan got chills as he heard her voice directly next to his ear.

“I'm sorry! I didn't want to hurt anybody!! I'm sorry!”

Suddenly, Nathan got chills all over his body, but he didn't know why. He looked around the room, and he could've sworn that there were shadows hiding in the dark, waiting for him. His curtain was turning the room red, and Nathan gasped as he suddenly struggled to breath. He ran to the door, but it was locked – why was the door locked!? Nathan felt the cold sweat on his back, and suddenly, he collapsed crying.

Warren would never love him! He was a tiny piece of shit, a maggot, a loser with no friends! He understood why Sean didn't call him, didn't ask how his day was, because he was a failure! He was a shitty son, a shitty photographer and he always fucked everything up. No wonder Mark hated him!

He hated him! Mark hated him! Nathan collapsed crying, and his nose didn't stop running. _Warren! Warren, why do you hate me? I just wanted to love you! I love you, Warren!_

Rachel! There, her voice! Nathan startled, turning around, but he didn't see anybody, but he could feel her cold wet lips on his, could feel her bare chest under his fingers, which were trying to massage her heart, trying to save her. But he had failed, and since then, Rachel had haunted him in his dreams.

Rachel in the dark room! Rachel in the dark room! Rachel in the dark room! Rachel in the dark room! Rachel in the dark room! Rachel in the dark room!!!

“I'm sorry, Rachel,” Nathan screamed and he took off his shirt, then he saw the tattoo on his arm, the one which actually belonged to Mark's hands, but the one Nathan had wanted on his arm. The roman numbers he had actually no clue of. He covered his wet face with his hands, then he cried out sobbing.

“I can't do this anymore! I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm so sorry!! You didn't deserve this …” Nathan crawled into the corner of his room, then he put his arms around his knees and started gasping.

“Rachel … Rachel … Rachel.”

And the red eyes kept on staring at him.

 

At the beginning of all of this, Nathan had thought that he was in the best position he could've been. His father didn't give a shit about him, but he already knew that – he had some friends, including Vic, he could've bought up their entire scholarship and he had been chosen by Mark to be his apprentice. Nothing was perfect, not by a long shot. But … it didn't suck as much as his previous life had sucked. Without Mark and … what they had.

Now, the world was different. His “friends” were turning against him, telling him to stop puking instead of asking what was wrong, he had gotten beaten up by his crush and the one Nathan had bullied and threatened the most had told his crush to stop beating him up. Nathan still felt his cheeks flushing with shame, thinking about Max Caulfield “rescuing” him. His stomach hurt like shit, and his face felt absolutely horrifying. Nathan looked at his phone and the text he had sent Max. He was such a stupid idiot. Nobody got intimidated by this shit. Nathan was glad he hadn't called Mark like last time he had been stoned.

Nathan took a shower since he felt dirty and sweaty. He didn't know what he had expected from the coke, maybe to forget everything for a while, but on the contrary – the coke had just brought up all the dark memories, and the voices had gotten worse. He grabbed the stolen tablet and brought it to the lost-and-brought office, putting a note next to the original note, explaining that he had been jealous of the cool cats. The only thing that had been left of Ahab was a tiny monochrome he always carried around in his briefcase.

During the next thirty minutes, Nathan tried calling the Marsh's four times, but every time he had typed the number, he had hung up the phone, not knowing what to say. The fifth time, there was a sad and soft voice, answering the call, introducing herself with the name “Lynn”, but Nathan had panicked and had mumbled “My condolences, she didn't deserve this.” and had hung up the phone

Then he tried calling Kris, but her voice on the mailbox was all he heard.

“Tudo bem, fellow friend! It's Kris, leave a message.”

“Ugh, h-hi Kris,” Nathan sniffed, and he tried holding back the tears which were running down his cheeks, “it's Nate. I, ugh, I just wanted to … hear your voice. Today's a party and … well, I'm already, uhm, excited. … I got beaten up today. B-but, it's okay, not a big deal. I, uhm, I know you're busy and everything and … I thought it's better in Arcadia Bay than in Florida, but, i-it's not. Dad doesn't give a shit about me, but I mean, that's nothing new. … I wish, uhm, I wish you were here. P-please call be back, I just have Vic and you a-and my attacks are getting worse, a-and the voices, Kris, they're still–“

“Nate? Oh my god, I'm so glad to hear from you!” Kris screamed, and Nathan heard loud ocean voices and waves.

“Oh, Kris! Y-you have–“

“Look, Nate, I'm on a boat right now with some friends, we're fishing, and I'm so sorry, I know I wanted to call you! There's – Wait …! Not now … Não, com o meu irmão … Sim … Nate? You still there?”

“Y-yeah, I–

“Nate, ohmygod, there are tiny whales everywhere! One day I'll take you with me and you can photograph them! Look, I don't have much time, but I hope you're doing well! We, we'll talk later, I promise! Thank's for calling! Love you!!”

Then she hang up, and Nathan swallowed, staring on the ground and mechanically wiping away the tears on his face.

“… Love you, too.”

 

Nathan looked around the room, and he saw the certificate his father had given him. Then he looked at the instructions of the gun. Well, that was reality. Nathan was far from being the greatest son. His gaze wandered over his leather shoes to his monochrome laying on the ground, then over to his movie collection with over 200 DVDs; he sighed when he saw his Macbook, his third one, because he had accidentally broken his last ones. The bondage posters were shining under the dim light, and luckily, Sean didn't know any of them. Because he hadn't visited Nathan once. But then again, Nathan had once told him about his fetish, had told him that this was his favorite porn to watch. Why? Nathan didn't really know. Maybe he had wanted to get his attention, maybe he had just wanted to piss him off. Or maybe Nathan wanted Sean to remember things about him. He had gotten a slap, and Sean had told him to “stop watching that disgusting shit”, and sweet two weeks later, he had forgotten everything. Nathan looked over his wardrobe which contained his 800 $ Hugo Boss Jacket he never wore, his bazillion shirts by Ralph Lauren he didn't wear as well, and some other things Sean had gotten him for his 19th birthday. Vic had always mocked him because of his Calvin Klein underpants, until he had gotten her some, too, and now she was loving them.

… Nathan understood why people thought they were a couple.

He looked at his car keys. Why did he keep the old rusty car? Vic was right when she had said that he could've had a better one, and Sean would've bought Nathan his dream car within a second if that meant that Nathan would stop taking drugs and “seeking for attention” when saying that there were voices in his head, telling him to kill himself. Yes, a BMW was way better than an old SUV, but … he had been 16 when he had gotten that car, and this summer, they had moved. He had lost everything, and this old car was everything that kept him in his memories of the better time, of the warm days spent with his friends, eating dinner with Sean and petting Ahab. Back when he had jumped into the sea, and had spent the whole week shivering, back when his father had taken a day out, once in a month, and had took him for a ride in his jet. There, Nathan had been able to see whole Fort Lauderale, able to take pictures and once, Sean and him had even went shopping for his camera. Now, it had been sent to him, and Sean had given him 10.000 $ cash, telling him to use Paypal and keep the change.

It may sound kitschy, but sometimes, Nathan didn't feel rich at all.

It hurt seeing Warren wear the same shirts for days, driving around with a shitty car he had worked for since ages, which wasn't as expensive as the phone he was holding in his hands, and with that Rolex he was wearing, he could've probably bought him his favorite car, unused. But Warren didn't need that shit. He was happy, because he had friends and a girl he loved, and Nathan would've exchanged everything he had for spending time with Warren, for being his friend, his …

Warren loved Max, and as much as it hurt and as difficult as it was, Nathan wasn't able to hate Max. She had saved him from getting his ass kicked by the guy he loved, the one with the hazel eyes he dreamed of every night, the one who made him stutter when talking to him. He wanted to hate her as much as he had done some hours ago, but … he couldn't.

 

'Meet me @ 6 in the lot

And bring your phone.' – Mark

 

When Mark had wanted him to bring first and his second phone, and Nathan told him that he had lost the second one, he got angry. Nathan said that he had looked for it everywhere, and he knew that he had put it under the sofa, but it hadn't been there. Mark yelled at him, then his voice got softer and he apologized. He said that he felt a bit tense, since he needed to prepare some things for the contest he wasn't a part of anymore. Still, he needed to choose a winner, which was probably Vic, who had entered the best photo. But Nathan should keep quiet about that. Mark had thought about choosing Kate, but this would've been too hypocritical. Nathan asked if there was a Mark who could be more hypocritical than the one during the talk with Wells, Max and him.

He had received an arrogant glare.

During the talk, Mark somehow behaved differently, which was probably attributed to the party and his plan of drugging Max. Mark couldn't stop staring on Nathan's nose, which was blue and red, and probably broken, and Nathan hoped that he didn't notice that Nathan had taken some nose candy.

“You're deathly pale. You feeling alright?”

“… Yeah,” Nathan said, averting his gaze. Of course Mark knew that he didn't want to talk about it.

“It's getting dark now,” Mark said, and the soft dim light of what had been left of this shitty day fell on his smooth skin, casting some shadows under his hooded eyes and his glasses, “I'll be preparing the session. You get your phone back tomorrow, I just want to have a backup in case I don't see her at the party.”

“You wanna lure her?”

“Yes,” Mark said, and his lips formed something like a smile, “let me handle this. You'll see the results by tomorrow."

Nathan nodded, then he saw Mark driving off in his huge black car. His gaze wandered over to the license plate, and he pictured Max laying on the white floor of the Dark Room, drugged. Her eyes as lifeless as Rachel Amber's, her mouth open and covered in tears. Gasping, barely breathing. And then, for a split second, he saw her face, dragging Warren away from him. He put a hand on his stomach, which still hurt, then he closed his eyes, seeing Warren's rage burn in his eyes, feeling his fist on his face and his kicks in his rips. Feeling inferior, weak, broken.

Nathan walked across the parking lot and the school's campus, seeing the people stare at him. His face looked awful; Mark had been right, he _was_ as pale as a ghost, and the dark circles under his eyes really made him look like one. He was sweating like a pig and his twitches had gotten worse. His gaze wandered over the people on the campus, staring at him like a circus animal, revolted and fascinated at the same time. Hayden was sitting next to Courtney, Zach and Logan under the tree, scrutinizing with disgust. Nathan could see them talking about him, mocking him. He felt their sharp words on his body. Sometimes, Nathan couldn't read the people's facial expression, and he needed to hear what they say to know what they think. He was a creep with no friends.

The sun was setting, and Nathan sat down on a bench, closing his eyes and feeling the last sun beams on his skin. … Would Hayden or Zach or any of the club members have stopped Warren from beating him up? Nathan didn't have to think about it for a long time. They used him, made him pay for expensive gifts, and enjoyed being in his club. But they talked about him, Nathan knew it, and Hayden probably had told everyone that Nathan liked Warren Graham. The realization hit him like a slap from his father; they would've encouraged Warren. He knew it. For whatever reason, Max was the one he had bullied the most, and still she had decided to help him.

And suddenly, Nathan widened his eyes. He couldn't let Mark do this to her.

 

It was seven, and the party had already started, and it was then when the double moon occurred. By now, Nathan didn't wonder about anything anymore. The world was ending, he knew it, and now, everybody else knew. But Nathan didn't want to get another panic attack because of the human race not being whiling to stop global warming, so he focused on the most important thing right now. Since Nathan had given Mark his phone, he had to search for Max on his own, but no matter where he went, he couldn't find her. Vic was gone, too, and nobody seemed to have seen her. Nathan started to panic, desperately trying to find her, but a little later, he found the answer to his question.

He was standing in front of him, a red cup in his hand. Sober, yet. He looked up; brown and blue eyes met.

 

 


	13. The Other Half of the Sky

“The hell you want, dude?” were the first words Warren really spoke to Nathan. For one second, Nathan thought he'd collapse and get an anxiety attack, but then he held his breath, staring at Warren who looked at him in a mixture of confusion and scorn.

Silence. Nathan wanted to open his mouth, but his lips were paralyzed, so he just stared at Warren like a dense idiot. He, he never thought he'd talk to him _ever_! But now, his secret love was standing in front of him, scrutinizing him and probably thinking that he was a complete retard.

“Nathan …?”

“…”

“Uhm,” Warren looked around uncomfortably, obviously overtaxed by Nathan acting so fucking weird, “well, this is awkward. Are you, uh, are you hi–“

“I, I just wanted to say … f-fuck, this is bullshit–“ Nathan bubbled out, trying not to turn red, but Warren looked at him like he didn't understand a word, “I, ugh, I … I just wanted to say that I fucked up, and I'm sorry.” Nathan swallowed, averting his gaze while trying hard not to jump and run away.

_Oh god, why did I do this again!? I'm such a fucking idiot, ohgodohgodohgod._

Warren glared at him, frowning, “What the actual hell are you talking of? What is happening? Am I, am I missing something or ...?”

“I, ugh,” Nathan said, and suddenly, his eyes stared to water. A quick hand movement, and the tears got wiped away. Then he swallowed, and forced himself to be brave for the first time in his life. “I fucked up, Warren. I, uhm … I fucked up so bad. I try, but I know I can't fix everything. I, I just wish I could … could rewind time, and all the stupid shit I've done. I'm a monster. Nobody likes me, and I, ugh … I understand why you beat me up. No, really. I, I would've done it myself.”

Nathan sniffed, trying to hold back his tears as he felt something he had never felt in his life. He felt shame, disgust by himself, scorn … but also something incredibly beautiful and relieving. He felt redemption.

“Uhm,” Warren mumbled, scrutinizing Nathan with squinted eyes, looking like he was in an inner fight if he should laugh or run away instantly, “… you sure you're not high?”

“I know I can't make up for … I, I'm just so unbelievably sorry for what I did to you and Max, and to … I, uhm, I – I've hurt a lot of people. I've beaten you up, like, five times already, and I've called you names,” Nathan silenced, looking at his shoes, ashamed, “I've bullied Max and you, and many others, and I, ugh, I thought I was privileged because I was a Prescott, but in fact, I'm just a stupid piece of shit who pretends to be an artist.”

“Are you kidding me …?” Warren asked, and his confused gaze wandered over Nathan's face. “I, uhm, I don't know if this is a prank or–“

“I heard you were struggling to pay off your scholarship,” Nathan mumbled, and Warren blushed. – “Where did you get this from …?”

“You deserve Blackwell more than I do,” Nathan said, then he took off his Rolex, “it's brand new, they will know. Sell it, it, uhm, should solve your problem.”

Nathan slipped the watch into Warren's hand, who stared at him in astonishment. “W-what the– N-No, I can't –“

“Yes, you do. Besides, I don't want you to sell your car, it's … awesome,” Nathan smiled lightly.

“Wow, thank you so much …! I, I don't know what to say. I, uh … Why are you so nice, and what happened to Nathan Prescott?”

“I just,” Nathan answered, and he didn't dare looking at him, “I just realized something.”

“You know,” Warren mumbled, then he shyly rubbed his neck, “I'm sorry I'm so awkward, it's just … we never really talked before. Man, this is so weird. I didn't know you could be, you know … nice. But, I mean, maybe it would be cool to hang out sometime. I mean, after your revelation.” Warren smiled carefully, and Nathan couldn't hold back a grin. Then he cleared his throat, nodding casually, trying not to freak out because of Warren having asked him to chill.

Maybe … the club members really weren't the cooler people.

“I'm sorry for beating you up, man. I know I had the choice to stop,” Warren said quietly, “I've actually sworn to myself that I'd never be like this … But, you know, whatever you did, it, uhm, it'll be alright. You always seem so … hurried, and restless. Sometimes, I hear you sobbing at night. When I'm having a hard time, I just got to bed and relax. Some sleep never killed anybody, you know.”

Warren laughed, and Nathan swallowed uncomfortably.

“Or I watch 'Hannibal Holocaust',” he grinned, “I don't think you know this one. It's–“

“Awesome,” Nathan smiled, “I know.”

The boys looked at each other, and suddenly, both grinned, and for one short moment, they were just two boys, talking about boys stuff and horror movies, and Nathan had never felt this far away and yet this close to to anybody. They were standing under the same sky, looking at the same two moons, and the sun would rise for both of them the next day.

“Warren,” Nathan asked, savoring the moment of speaking his name for the first time, “this might sound wrong considering the recent events, but … just trust me: have you seen Max?”

But Warren shook his head, telling him that he hadn't seen her the whole day.

“I have to go now,” Nathan said, not wanting to get Warren into trouble.

_ He'll be there soon. _

“Go on, I'll just, ya know. Stay here and get drunk. Ha, better sleep with a sober cannibal than a –“

“… drunken Christian,” Nathan completed, their eyes met and both boys grinned. “Exactly.”

Of course Warren knew fucking Moby Dick.

Nathan didn't know why, but all of sudden, this conversation felt like farewell, and as he lifted his head, he looked into Warren's eyes, seeing the swollen skin framing his right eye, and his chapped lips from the fight, and suddenly, his heart started racing. He took a deep breath. He had talked to Warren, his crush, his love. The guy he wanted to be with, to kiss, to watch old movies with and go to Go Ape! with. He looked into these brown eyes, and it felt like a door opening, and offered Nathan a glimpse of what could've been, and an incredible sadness was overcoming him. It would never be like he had always wanted. But that was okay. Life had many endings, and he had chosen this one. He had decided to be a coward. But these times were over. He needed to take responsibility for what he had done.

He swallowed, then he held his breath. Hayden had already destroyed his reputation, so who gave a fuck anyway?

Warren's beautiful eyes widened in confusion, as Nathan took a step forwards him, cupped his cheeks and kissed him. He felt Warren's soft lips under his, then he smiled lightly, looking into Warren's face which wasn't frozen, as Nathan had expected. – Warren was calm, and he smiled tenderly when Nathan averted his gaze, ashamed, mumbling “… Sorry, Warren. I had to.”

“Uhm, I'm sorry, but I'm not drunk enough for this,” Warren said, smiling awkwardly.

“I, uhm, I wanted to tell you something since a long time,” Nathan said, and he prepared for pouring out his heart, when suddenly, Warren looked at him softly.

“I think I know.”

Nathan nodded, cursing himself for being such an idiot. “Of course you do.”

Then Nathan turned around, walking down the lot campus when he suddenly stopped, facing Warren. “I don't know, I think she does, too. She just … sucks at showing it.” Nathan knew the pain of someone not loving you back.

A tiny smile played about Warren's lips, then he nodded.

 

Nathan was standing in the lot, waiting for Mark to come back. Since he hadn't got a phone, he had hoped to see Mark, since he had decided to stop him. Rachel had died because of him, and Kate had committed suicide because of this video. It felt like Nathan had woken up of this nightmare, had woken up in reality where these photos weren't charming or genius, they were drugged girls, who hadn't done anything but being part of Mark's sick obsession. Nathan would never forget kissing Warren Graham. It had shown him that being brave was worth it, and making friends with somebody rather than bullying them or drugging them was … so much easier.

He decided to be brave, for the first time in his life, and he would save Max, just as she had saved him. He'd do it for Warren, and for himself … because he had an uneasy feeling about Mark's next session.

“Nathan, what are you doing here?” a voice said, and for the first time it sounded … different than usual. The named turned around, seeing Mark facing him and walking toward him across the lot.

“Mark, I,” Nathan said, trying to sound sternly, “I've thought about Max. You can't photograph her.” Then Nathan held his breath, and he stared at Mark, hoping he wouldn't get too mad. But Mark looked at him indifferently.

“Oh, I won't. I've thought about her, too, and you were right: her face doesn't match well with the photos we want. I'm here because I've made up my mind, and I wanted to ask you if you could help me sorting the photos in some boxes. One never know when your dad wants to visit again, and remember last time?”

Nathan did remember; they had to put the photos away withing seconds, because his stupid father had spontaneously decided to visit (Mark, _not_ Nathan). Mark opened the door of his car, then he looked at Nathan, in expectation of getting in.

Nathan didn't know why, but something told him that there was something … weird going on. Even though Mark acted normally – and sorting the photos in his Dark Room had been something they had wanted to do for a long time –, he felt some kind of uneasiness.

“Have you seen the double moon?” Mark said, and Nathan took a look at the windshield, but the sudden raindrops worsened his sight. “First the snow, then the eclipse, the dying animas and now the double moon … I'm wondering what nature might try to tell us.”

“Don't you have to announce the winner of the contest?” Nathan asked. He knew that there was something fishy about this … first Mark had driven off, organizing everything for the next session, and then he came back, having his mind made up without any reason at all. Mark didn't act like this, whatever he did, he was planning it beforehand.

“I do – in two hours. Look, I'm sorry for bothering you with cleaning up, but we really do have to sort the photos, especially because our pause. By the way, why aren't you at the party?”

“I, uhm … I don't feel like dancing.”

“If you call 'dabbing' a dance,” Mark laughed, insinuating the last time Nathan had been totally wasted, dabbing to the beats like a retard and flashing his money around.

“Who's gonna be the winner?” – “Victoria, of course. Sure thing. But keep quiet about that.”

“How am I supposed to tell her without a phone?” Nathan hissed, and Mark apologized for taking it. He promised it would be laying somewhere in his home, but Nathan knew Mark and his weakness for losing things. Nathan sighed; he somehow got the feeling that he wouldn't see his phone ever again.

They arrived a few minutes later, and somehow, for the first time ever, Mark's house looked scary and dark, even though it had always been some sort of sanctuary for Nathan. Nathan and Mark passed by the kitchen, and Nathan remembered the evenings with Mark when they had been cooking together and drinking scotch, the times when everything had been perfect. Now, this feeling was gone; the huge Dark Rooms were oppressing, and the bondage photos were frightening him for the first time ever. Even though Mark was acting casually, like nothing happened … he was yet acting so weird.

“Your nose … it's broken, am I right? Why so?” Mark said, scrutinizing Nathan's face for some seconds while walking down the stairs to his Dark Room, which looked basically like a tinier version of the one under the Prescott yarn. Nathan looked like shit, but Mark – Mark looked like a young god, _again_. He was wearing a black jacket over a white shirt, as usual, and it looked fantastic, _as usual._ Nathan told him he had gotten in a fight, and even though Mark was looking at him in a weird way, Nathan loved the fact that he wanted to know if he was alright and when it had happened. Mark, the only person who had ever really cared for him.

Apart from Max.

“Who was it?” Mark asked while taking out a pile of photos. – “… Warren Graham,” Nathan admitted, somehow ashamed.

“Oh, I see, Max's friend … the guy you're in love with.”

Nathan gasped, then he looked at Mark in shock.

“Wh-where did you get–“

“Oh, come one, if that isn't obvious,” Mark laughed, winking at him while he patted his shoulder, “the way you avoid him and yet seek for his attention, the way your eyes sparkle when talking of him. You don't have to blush, it's alright. I always knew you and Victoria are just friends.”

Mark laughed, touched by Nathan's insecurity and his naivety concerning crushes, and after thinking for some time, Nathan realized that he wasn't surprised about it. Mark knew him so well, and Nathan knew him. He was like a father for him, his mentor – of course he knew who he had a crush on.

“Oh Nathan,” Mark said, and he tilted his head as his dark hooded eyes were riddling Nathan, and suddenly, he uttered a sigh, shaking his head in concern. “What a shame that not even Warren's interested in you.”

Nathan felt a cold shock crawling up his spine; what did he say?! Nathan knew that he was worthless, that nobody loved him and that he didn't deserve any affection at all, of course he knew all of this, but … Why did Mark say these things?! He was the only one Nathan had …!

“Why do you–“

“Your watch's gone,” Mark said, lifting up Nathan's arm. But Nathan glared at him, forcing himself not to cry, but the tears kept rolling.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't mean it like that,” Mark said in passing, then he cupped his cheeks and looked at his nose and his chapped lips, and Mark's expression turned into fascination, “holy crap, Warren hit you harder than I thought. What a shocker. – You really made life difficult for him. I must admit, I didn't know he had such a firm punch.”

Mark couldn't stop looking at Nathan, who was scared, ashamed and absolutely confused at the same time. This look on Mark's face … he knew it somewhere. Mark had never looked at him like that. This expression on his face reminded him of the way Mark looked at his models – eyes full of passion, desire and vision.

“It's gonna be brilliant.”

“What do you mean …?” Nathan mouthed, and he saw Mark's dark and intense look burning in his eyes. He wanted to avert his gaze, but he couldn't. Slowly, Mark took a step forwards him, until he looked down on him, with a gaze as cold as ice.

“Nathan, I want to ask you something,” his soft voice spoke, “and I've thought about this for a very long time. This might sound crazy, I know, and maybe you won't understand … at first. But think about how much I've taught you, how much you've already learned, and how many times you've yelled at me for having too high standards and how glad you were with the outcome.”

Mark smiled tenderly, tilting his head, and up until now, Nathan hadn't understood a word he had been saying, but then the sudden realization flashed to his mind, and it made him freeze. Now, Nathan knew what Mark had been thinking when he had been looking into his eyes, had been seeing in his face.

A photo.

 

“Nathan, I wanted to ask you, if you're going to be … my last model.”

 


	14. On Top of the Lake

“Mark, d-don't do this to me …!” Nathan breathed, struck dumb, feeling his heart sink when he realized what Mark just had said. He stared at him with widened eyes, not able to understand what was happening right now. Why hadn't he seen that coming …!? Nathan wanted this to be a dream, wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but now that Mark was standing in front of him, he knew that this was real.

But this wasn't the Mark Nathan knew.

“We're a team,” Nathan sobbed, then he grabbed Mark's arm in an act of desperation, but he was unimpressed, “we, we're supposed to work together …! You can't do this to me!!” Nathan felt the hot, burning rage in his stomach, and wanted to scream, wanted to jump at Mark, punch him in his emotionless face, but all he could do was sink to his knees like a child, begging Mark to spare him.

He waited for Mark Jefferson, his mentor, his father, his best friend, but nothing was left of this man.

“I saw you posing with Rachel Amber,” Mark said, and his voice was so smooth and soft as ever, and he tenderly stroked Nathan's head when continuing talking, “at the outset, it really amused me seeing how vigorously you were trying to impress me and imitate what I did, and how little you understood work. Then I saw the photos, and it was like a revelation. You might not have any talent as a photographer, but you do have some … as a model.”

Nathan stared at Mark and his dark pompous smile, and the words hit him like a shot in the stomach. Mark, the only person he worshipped, he trusted, he admired, was standing in front of him, telling him that Nathan sucked at the only thing he loved doing. How could he do that?! What had Nathan missed?

“Don't cry, Nate,” Mark said calmly while wiping away some of Nathan's tears, “my first and last male model, that's a huge honor. Now I see it clearly: your eyes, they reflect your true nature so well. So pure, honest, innocent … vulnerable. You're a terrible actor when you say you don't give a shit about anything. Your eyes are as blue as the sea your beloved whaled are swimming in, just like Max. But way deeper, more profound. Your look is clear, attentive, always ready to attack, but sometimes, it's dreamy and … absent-minded. Especially when taking pills or snorting some Peruvian flake. Am I right?”

Mark winked at him, and for the first time ever, Nathan didn't blush. In fact, Nathan started to feel terrified, and he couldn't recognize the man who was in front of him. “P-please don't make me do this,” Nathan breathed, and warm tears were falling on the cold floor. Nathan closed his eyes, and startled as he heard Mark laugh, amused.

“Oh, I already did,” he smiled, then he opened a drawer and took out some photos, and without having seen them, Nathan already knew what was shown. He fell back, almost knocking over a vase as he stumbled over the carpet. Mark raised his eyebrows, throwing the photos on the table, which were showing Nathan laying in the white corner of the Dark Room. Unconscious. Drugged.

“No,” Nathan breathed, feeling his whole world collapsing about him, “that's … that's the last time I slept over …! But, we … what …?! A-are there more of this?!”

Mark shook his head, and Nathan looked into the hooded eyes of the man who had done the exact same thing to him, the thing Nathan and him had always done as a team. How could he betray him like that? Nathan couldn't feel his legs anymore; his whole body was shaking. This wasn't the Mark he knew! Who the hell was standing in front of him? Was that really the man he had spent his nights with …?

“B-but we had turkey and brownies and hot chocolate, a-and I fell asleep next to you on the sofa …! How …” Nathan wanted to ask how Mark had done this, but while opening his mouth, he already knew it, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“… the hot chocolate.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Mark said casually, laughing to himself, while sorting Nathan's photos, “I mean, it's not like I could just ram a needle into your neck. And no, I haven't done that before, so I'm even happier about the outcome. There's something … feminine, something androgynous and vulnerable about you, I mean, do you understand how well this works on a photo–“

“I trusted you!” Nathan yelled, then he took the photos and hurled them into the corner of the room, and his deep sadness and disappointment turned into an outburst of rage. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me! You didn't even ask me! What's with all we had and, and all we did?! It was _me_ who gave you a fucking Dark Room, who drugged the girls and took them all the way to the Prescott barn, I did _everything_ for you and this is how you thank me?! You're going in hella trouble for this, fucking _psychopath_!”

But Mark just looked at him with this smug look he always had when he thought he was right, and Nathan loved and hated this look at the same time. He put one hand on his hips, then his lips formed a smirk.

“You killed a girl six months ago. See, we're not that different.”

Nathan silenced in shame; he swallowed, then he clenched his fist as he suddenly felt the throbbing pain in his head which had just reoccured, and he needed to grab the table in order not to fall over.

“Hell, this young and already this addicted to drugs. And still smoking in the Dark Room. Considering that I'm 'like a father' for you, you listened precious little to me,” Mark laughed.

Even though Nathan's stomach and the rage seething in it was almost killing Nathan, his tears didn't stop running. Mark smiled pompously, slowly approaching him. “See, now you're not this strong anymore. The development of your facial expression is incredible. I would've loved to capture this. And you're so pale. – Just as pale as sweet Kate Marsh the moment before she climbed onto roof and jumped … or Rachel.”

The pictures of Kate's and Rachel's lifeless expressions hunted the corridors of his thoughts, and even though their death seemed so far apart, for this very moment, they appeared closer than ever. Nathan collapsed crying, and one part of him wanted to scream, wanted to yell at Mark for being so selfish, so obsessed with a good photo, and the other part wanted to jump and run into his arms, let his tears dry on his shirt, let his big hands cup his cheeks. Because he was all Nathan had, the only person in Nathan's life who was stable, who had listened to him, cared for him and knew him … the one he felt safe with.

Without Mark, Nathan was nothing.

 

And this was why Nathan didn't protest when Mark took out some black duck tape and positioned the camera. Then he let Nathan sit on the white background. Mark went on his knees and with a soft yet firm grip, he wrapped the tape around Nathan's knuckles.

“Thank you so much for posing for me tonight,” Mark said tenderly while stroking some hair out of Nathan's face, which was red and swollen from crying, “this means a lot, and I knew you would understand. I'm sorry for testing how the photos would look like, and I'm also sorry for lying to you when I said we'd be sorting some photos. But I assure you that I'm not gonna drug you. This session will be sober, you don't have to be afraid. … And, I have a faint idea that you like bondage, don't you?”

Mark's smirk hurt in Nathan's heart, and this incredible sadness which had taken over his whole body refused him to smile. He swallowed, nodding lightly.

Mark took of his jacket and put the camera on a tripod, then he leaned over him, and Nathan's heart started racing. He was laying on the side, his legs were bent and taped together; the hard ground was hurting his shoulder. Nathan looked up, just to see Mark's face close to his one. He could see his pathetic reflection in Mark's glasses, and a pair of beautiful, dark and intimidating eyes behind them, which observed him eagerly. His lips formed a light smile, showing a bit of his perfect teeth. Nathan wanted to close his eyes, open his mouth and take it all back – now that it wasn't covered with duck tape, yet –, but the longer he stared into Mark's eyes, the harder it was to resist him.

“Oh, Nathan,” Mark whispered, and he froze as he felt Mark's wiry beard on his neck, “you will be posing for me. There are so many angles I want to expose you with to the world.”

Mark continued leaning forward, inch by inch, his body was getting closer to Nathan's. Nathan closed his eyes, hearing his heart which was pumping like it would jump out any minute. He sensed Mark's cologne, which transported him directly back to the times when everything was okay, when Mark and him had been fooling around with the camera, photographing girls and whales, when they had been going on journeys and playing billiard until 3 am. He could feel Mark's soft lips on his ear, and Nathan felt his groins burn as he heard Mark's deep voice whisper, “I can capture you over and over. You can be my model for life.”

Nathan swallowed, holding his breath while slowly opening his eyes and seeing Mark leaning over him. His look was soft yet firm.

 _There's nothing I want more than you, Mark_ , Nathan thought and he feel his lips shake, craving for expressing the words Nathan had locked into his mind for ages, _there's nobody who cared so much for me, helped me and comforted me more than you did. I cannot believe what you did to me, and yet there's nothing I want more than you. I want everything to be normal again, I want to fool around with Vic, go ape with Warren, I want continue photographing and spend time with you. Nothing on earth would make me happier than this being that easy._

But a silent “No …” was all that escaped from Nathan's lips.

“Christ, your expression is incredible,” Mark said and his eyes were gleaming with excitement, “ _fuck_ , you have the most gorgeous face.”

Nathan's stomach burned with a mixture of arousal and deep fear, and even though he tried, the pressure on his head made it hard to think straight. Everything felt like a blur, and the heat of his body made his body sweat, and suddenly, without thinking, Nathan opened his mouth, whispering, “I want to spend the rest of my life in your Dark Room, Mark.”

Nathan, shocked to hear what had just escaped his lips, gasped, and he stared at Mark, hoping for him having overheard that one. But Mark just smiled, and his dark eyes were devouring Nathan.

“I know. We could be so happy together.”

Then he lifted his hands and cupped Nathan's face, pulling it closer to his, and the next thing Nathan felt were Mark's soft lips on his. Nathan gasped, trying to concentrate while he was breathing deeply. The blush on his face grew stronger, and he tried not to hyperventilate, thinking about Mark Jefferson kissing him. Why had he done that? The feeling in his stomach had now completely turned into arousal, and Nathan hoped for his life that Mark wouldn't see how much this was exciting him.

But yet … why …?

“I know you desire me,” Mark whispered, and Nathan could feel his beard on his cheeks, “is that what you want?”

“I … I just want everything to be normal again,” Nathan breathed, and suddenly, his lips were speaking for themselves, “and I just want to be with you, and feel safe around you. You're the only one who knows me, the only one I have. … I love you, Mark.”

Mark smiled softly. “We need to play catch-up on all the time we've wasted. Especially since there's nobody left in your life. I love you too, Nathan … And therefore,” Mark said, and Nathan startled as he heard Mark grabbing something from behind, “I need to make sure that you keep pure.”

 

Then, before he knew, Nathan felt the sharp pain of the needle piercing the flesh of his neck.

The next second, he passed out.

 

White dazzling light was waking Nathan, and he slowly opened his eyes. Everything was a blur, and his mouth felt dry and weird. His eyes were swollen, and it neck hurt terribly. His lips were chapped and had the taste of iron; it was spreading in his mouth, making Nathan retch. His wrists were red and rough, and his whole body felt rigid and cold, like he had been sleeping many days. Some sick nightmares had haunted his sleep, that punk ass Chloe making out with Warren, until they had been interrupted by Rachel Amber, who had risen from the death, hunting Nathan and demanding a kiss while screaming that the last one hadn't saved her, and Nathan had apologized while crying, admitting that it was true.

Slowly, Nathan started regaining consciousness. Where was he …? Everything around him was white and bright. He looked around the room, seeing that he was laying on a white underground, and suddenly, he knew.

He knew exactly where he was.

His head was killing him, and for a split second, he widened his mouth in fear, intending to scream for Mark Jefferson, who had drugged him. He laid his fingers on his neck, on the spot where Mark had inserted the needle. Nathan fought with tears again, thinking about the only real friend in his life, doing something like that to him. Making him one of his models, drugging him … using him. Nathan's body felt heavy and alarmingly cold, he had chills all over his skin. … Was that how Rachel and Kate had felt like? If Nathan had known back then, he would've stopped Mark and himself! … Right?

 _Don't stress, bro_ , Nathan said to himself, forcing himself to inhale deeply, while feeling his heart race, _o-okay, think clear. No time for crying over the loss of your friend. You, you need to focus …! Y-you live, that's all that matters. Mark's not there, and he has already taken off the duck tape. There are noises upstairs, s-so he will arrive soon, that means you need to think of a plan fast!_

Nathan ignored the unintentional tears running out of his eyes, and his heart was screaming at him, commanding him to go to Mark and beg him to just let him go, to forgive him and just forget what had happened. There was nothing Nathan desired as much as this thought, and as pleasant and pathetic it sounded, there was something in him, that felt like it wouldn't be this easy. Something hidden in his mind whispered to him that Mark wouldn't let him go just like that.

Nathan checked for his gun in his pants, and he gave a sigh or relief, feeling that it was still there. However this would end … he was able to defend himself.

Nathan carefully stood up, hearing some soft Jazz music playing, which meant that Mark didn't hear him that easily – but Nathan didn't hear him, as well. Where was his goddamn phone?! Nathan now didn't believe Mark a word, saying that he had needed it “just to be sure”. On the contrary, it had been a trap, Nathan knew it. He knew Mark's tricks.

Nathan looked around the room, searching for his phone while stumbling across some of his photos. His look was as lifeless and empty as Rachel Amber's had been, and it hurt his heart seeing what Mark had done to him. Nathan would get his reverence, and it would be sweet.

Nathan, desperately sneaking around the room, couldn't find the phone, when he suddenly saw Mark's jacket laying over the sofa. He checked its pocket, and found it.

 

'glad you got one last look at rachel

nobody will ever find her again after im done' – Nathan

 

Nathan gasped. Did they know about Rachel …?! Even though he had already felt like Mark had tricked them, he hadn't known that he had actually been right! Fuck! Mark, this fucking liar, had told him that he had decided not to photograph her! Mark wanted to lure her to the junkyard …! He needed to warn Max!

Nathan typed in her number, and while holding the phone on his ear, he collapsed, gasping at crying at the same time. He had tried to suppress it, ignore the thought of what would happen next, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it got. He pressed his lips together, hoping that Mark wouldn't hear him crying.

 _Be brave_ , Nathan whispered to himself, seeing that Max didn't answer the phone; the sound was killing him, and he drowned in fear of what would happen to her if she didn't hear the mailbox … or what would happen to him. _Be a Prescott! Be brave one fucking time …!_

“Max, it's … i-it's Nathan,” he stuttered, while looking around in panic, “I just wanted to say … I-I'm sorry.”

Even though there had been nothing Nathan had wanted to say eagerly, the worlds felt as heavy as stone, and he needed to restrain himself to give in in his attack, to faint and fall on the ground because of the stress.

“I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or … didn't want to hurt anybody …! Everybody … used me. Mr. Jefferson … is coming for me now. All this shit will be over soon,” Nathan cried, wetting the floor under his knees. He had done what Mark wanted, there was nothing he could do more. No more models, no more drugged girls, and his pathetic life would be a bit less shittier than it had been.

“Watch out, Max,” he whispered, then he heard footsteps, “… he wants to hurt you next.”

Nathan jumped and put the phone in Mark's jacket. 9 pm, the party had started for some hours. Max was alive, Nathan knew it. She had to!

Nathan saw Mark's feet appearing on the stairs, and he prayed for the first time in his life. He prayed for having saved Max's life with that call. … Because he had already taken one.

“Oh, you're awake,” Mark said casually, and the sight of his dark smirk sent a chill down Nathan's spine. His back was sweating with excitement and fear of what would happen next. Nathan tried to glare at Mark, tried to be his old sarcastic, rebellious self, but he failed miserably.

“Have you seen the photos? They're great, really, you should take a look,” Mark said, taking one and scrutinizing it like a holiday picture.

“And you should eat shit and die,” Nathan hissed, and neither Mark nor Nathan could believe what he had just said. _Great_ , Nathan thought breathlessly, _now I'm completely insane._

“Well, looks like someone hasn't slept well,” Mark laughed, approaching Nathan, who took a step back. His expression changed, then he tilted his head as he raised his eyebrows, looking at him in distress. “Nathan, what the – Are you still mad because of his tiny needle? Look, I just wanted to make sure you stay innocent. I mean, how could I guarantee a pure photo with you being aware of the camera? Please don't make such a big deal out of it, I–“

“ _Whatevathefuck_! You promised, you stupid shit!” Nathan screamed, clenching his fist.

“I never promised you anything,” Mark suddenly said, and there was a tone in his voice that made Nathan shiver.

“I hope you're happy now,” Nathan yelled, passing by Mark as he headed for the stairs, “admit it: you wanted to do that for a long time, am I right?! _Fucking_ hypocrite! I trusted you, I can't believe I was this dumb!”

Nathan, whose blood was running cold when he saw the cellar door standing open, held his breath. He expected Mark to come for him, but he was just looking at the photos, sighing. Even though Nathan's look was straight forward, he fearfully listened to every sound Mark made, and the suspense was almost killing him.

“What a shame that you don't even want to take a look,” Mark said calmly, like everything was under his control, “they're really good. Better than Rachel's. But I mean, no offense, that's not that difficult. Still, I don't quite get why everybody fancied her. She was average looking, your typical rustic beauty, and, what should I say, choking on your own vomit isn't very charming as well.”

Nathan was about to open his mouth and yell at Mark that this wasn't the time to run down a dead girl, when he suddenly paused.

“… What did you just say?” Nathan breathed.

“Looks like the drugs fucked up your ears as well,” Mark said, annoyed, “I just said that you shouldn't fancy somebody who died by choking on their own–“

Then he silenced, and it was the first time Nathan saw Mark Jefferson being shocked. His look changed, and he laughed lightly, rising his head and looking at Nathan, whose face was frozen with horror.

In this moment, Nathan had understood.

He knew it by heart, had went through the steps a thousand times in his head. He had given her an overdose because he had panicked when she had woken up in between, he hadn't endured the clear look on her face, he had seen his pathetic face in her tired eyes. Her nose had started to bleed, and dazedly, with her last ounce of strength, she had asked him for a photo of herself, but Nathan had lost his mind, had seen the consequences of drugging her within a second … had been ashamed of himself. He had grabbed another needle, and had rammed it into her neck. Later, she had been poisoned, had been vomiting blood, then she had been quiet, and Nathan had tried everything to revive her, had felt her cold lips on his when she had been laying lifelessly on the wet ground. Then he had called Mark, since had been losing his mind.

Mark had arrived … and had sent Nathan out. But she had died because of the overdose, not because she had been choking on her own vomit.

“… she wasn't dead when I called for you,” Nathan breathed, and his body was paralyzed with shock.

“I knew you would find out one day,” Mark said, smiling with resignation. “I never thought that I would tell you this, but … I thought that she was dead as well. I was wrong. She regained consciousness a few minutes after you were gone. She begged me to help her, but she couldn't speak probably.”

“And you didn't help her,” Nathan breathed, not capable of believing what he had just heard, “instead, you told me she had died …! My whole life had been all about the fact that I killed her …! I, I can't sleep at night because of my nightmares, I h-hear her voice in the dark, and …! My life got destroyed after this night, and now you tell me that … that …”

Nathan couldn't cry anymore. All he did was staring into Mark's emotionless eyes, which were glaring at him. Cold, like the ones of a murderer, a psychopath. Without any trace of sympathy. This man … was no human …!

“You destroyed my life, you SICK bastard!” Nathan yelled, and he needed to grab the railing again in order to keep upright. “I did _everything_ for you!! I helped you with the photos your fucked up mind had planned, and I drugged innocent girls just to please you! Do you have any fucking clue what you did to me, you PSYCHOPATH!?”

“I didn't destroy your life,” Mark said calmly, unimpressed by Nathan's outburst, “it had already been. I fixed it, if at all. You call me a psychopath, but let me tell you that we're more alike than you think.”

This man wasn't the one he had know. The old Mark was dead, Mark had killed him himself, just like Rachel. Nathan stared at Mark's smirk, and although one part of him wanted to pull out his gun and shoot him in his fucking face, he couldn't do anything but shake his head in shock.

“No, we're not. I'll never be like you, it's true, I never understood your sick work. I couldn't do what you did.”

“Oh, you already did,” Mark said, and his hooded eyes were glaring at him, “to Kate.”

Nathan gasped. “No! No, this was different,” he said breathlessly, while feeling the shame crawling up his back, “ I … she …”

“You knew she would harm herself. And still, you and your friends continued.”

“I-I just did what you wanted, you made me do this!” Nathan yelled desperately, but Mark smiled, softly shaking your head. “False. _You_ did this all by yourself.”

Then Mark tilted his head, smiling while putting one hand on his hip, “Let me put it this way: All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad. … You like Moby Dick, don't you?”

Nathan ignored Mark's quote. A great book like Moby Dick shouldn't be dirtied like that by Mr Jeffershit quoting it.

“I'm going to hand myself in, and then everybody will know what a sick bastard you are, and you will rot in jail,” Nathan hissed, trying to intimidate Mark, who kept calm.

“No, you won't.”

Nathan, at the end of his tether, impulsively took out his gun, pointing at Mark. Now, the day had arrived … the day he was threatening the most important person in his life. With a gun.

“Do it. Fucking pull the trigger, you're too weak anyway,” Mark hissed, and his sharp words were burning in Nathan's heart like a cut, “I'm the only one left of your shitty life. Shoot me, and you have _nobody_ . Your family doesn't want you, your friends don't want you, hell, not even _Warren_ Graham wants you! I'm the only one who can take care of you, who listened to you, who spent time with you. Killing me would mean killing your last purpose of life.”

Even though the words hit Nathan like knives thrusts, and Mark just wanted to provoke, Nathan couldn't help but cry again – for the hundredth time this day. The old Mark would have hugged him. But not this Mark.

“Jesus, stop crying, you little bitch,” he said harshly, “you really think I did all of that for you? Did you know that you're the easiest person _ever_ to manipulate? Sometimes, I just thought it was too easy.”

Nathan's hand was shaking when he closed his eyes, forcing himself to pull the trigger. The pictures of Rachel's dead body were hunting his thoughts, and the rage in his stomach was blazing. He would shoot him …! Shoot the man who had made his life even shittier than it had been before, who had used him and had betrayed him, who had destroyed his life .

… and had fixed it.

 

_“So you like monochromes,” a voice said behind Nathan's back, and he turned around, seeing Vic's photography teacher standing behind him. Nathan blushed; hell, he was even more attractive than she had described him. His smile was stunning, and he had this intelligent look in his eyes that gave Nathan chills._

_“Oh, Mr. Jefferson,” Nathan said, forcing himself not to grin like an idiot, “yes, I do.”_

_*_

_“Wait for me, Mark!” Nathan yelled in a mixture of excitement and joy, trying to keep up with Mark, who was dashing down the hill on his bike. “Holy shit,” Nathan grinned, pedaling like mad, “shit, I've … I've never been this fast!!”_

_Mark stopped, winking at him,”The loser will pay the ice!” – Nathan grinned, “Challenge accepted!”_

_*_

_“Hope you're feeling ok. Dinner at 1?”_

_Nathan looked at the tiny piece of paper Mark had given him secretly while passing by in school. After his last panic attack, Nathan had really feared to have lost him. But he never gave up on him. Not Mark. After eating, they wanted to visit the Sea museum. Nathan couldn't wait for bragging about his whale knowledge._

 

Nathan felt the gun getting heavier, and slowly, his hand was sinking on the ground. He wanted to do it! He, he wanted to shoot Mark so bad, stop all of this pain, but … he couldn't …! Mark was a part of him, and he was right. He was all Nathan had. … Nathan opened the eyes, seeing Mark's firm stare resting on him; in his hands, a gun pointing at Nathan.

At this moment, Nathan knew that Max wasn't the only one Mark was planning to kill.

Nathan inhaled deeply, and never had something been this difficult for him, “I won't let you kill another girl.” Then, he squinted his eyes, pulling the trigger, begging the old Mark for forgiveness.

… But nothing happened. Nathan froze, seeing that his gun was unloaded.

“Did you really think I didn't notice the gun in your pants? Christ, Nathan, you really haven't learned _anything_ ,” Mark hissed, “you really would've shot me, stupid twat. I’m sorry, Nathan, but I haven't set all this up just so you can fuck it up.”

 

The shot was loud and shrill, almost splitting Nathan's ear. He dazedly looked down, noticing warm blood flowing out of his stomach, floating the ground under his knees he had sank to.

Two shots followed, and after the third one, Nathan's body fell into its own pool of blood, which covered his face like the ocean waves softly covered a whale, washed up on a shore.

 *

_L_ _ater, a girl got faced with the hardest decision in her life._

_And she made a choice._

 


	15. What Nathan Knew

MONDAY

 

“It's cool Nathan … Don't stress, you're okay, bro. Just count to three,” Nathan spoke to himself as he entered the girls' bathroom.

 _One_.

He took a deep breath as he felt his knees shaking. His hands were cold and sweaty; he swallowed, looking into the mirror. His cheeks burned with excitement while the rest of his face was white as snow. _They were just joking around,_ he thought as he let his gaze wander over the doors. Nobody there, good. Some girl seeing him like that, hyperventilating because of some guys fooling around, was the last thing Nathan needed. He was the king of Blackwell, and everybody knew that.

“Don't be scared, you own this school,” he said to himself, starting to feel a bit better, “if I wanted, I could blow it up. You're the Boss.” That's right. He was the boss, and there was no Hayden, or anybody else, who could mess with him.

 _Two_.

They were joking around, nothing more. They didn't know shit and it was just some phrase Hayden had said. It was a phrase he could've said to anybody. “Nathan Prescott, always getting his things straight … or not so straight.” It was a joke and everybody had laughed, including Nathan, then Taylor had started speaking of the End of the World party on Thursday evening. Nothing more. A fucking joke. Nathan inhaled deeply, trying to avoid the thought of Hayden knowing. Knowing _it,_ knowing everything. After he had said that, Nathan's heart had started to race, and he had felt cold sweat of shame wetting his back, shorty before standing up and claiming that he needed to use the bathroom, and – to make matters worse – he had seen this punk bitch following him the down the hallway.

Hayden didn't knew shit about Nathan. Nobody knew, and nobody suspected a thing. Everything was ok. There was nothing Nathan had to worry about. Nathan took out his pills and swallowed two of them. Then he looked up.

 _Three_.

“So what do you want?” Nathan snarled when the girl with the blue hair and the tatts entered the room.

“I hoped you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say,” she said. Nathan didn't give a fuck about her step-ass and about that stupid expression. The girl checked if they were alone, then looked at him sternly.

“Now, let's talk bidness–“

“I got nothing for you,” Nathan hissed, but this bitch proceeded to piss him off. Nathan wasn't scared of her, he wasn't scared of anybody since he got that gun.

“Wrong. You got hella cash,” she said, looking at Nathan who was observing her through the dirty mirror. Now, Nathan finally remembered her name: Price … Chloe Price, Rachel Amber's personal bull dyke. Did she really think she could scare him.

“That's my family, not me.” Why did nobody seem to understand that?

“Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here,” she said like she was fucking Sherlock Holmes, then she got close to him, looking at him with that steady gaze she thought she could scare him with and make him wet his pants like she had almost done, laying in his room, whining. Oh, what a beautiful yet pathetic sight. Nathan opened his mouth, ready to roast that bitch, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain penetrating his head, making him slouch his shoulders. _Fuck!_ Not again! Fuck, that hurt.

“Ugh,” Nathan said, trying to interrupt Chloe's pathetic attempt of threatening him, but without her noticing. The pain got worse and Nathan held his breath, trying to focus on something different than Hayden suspecting he was gay or Chloe screaming at him. But without success. He clenched his fists as his headache got worse.

“I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!” Chloe screamed. That bitch didn't just say that.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” Nathan yelled as he got up and gnashed his teeth, feeling his rage burn in his stomach. This slut knew nothing about him, and yet she decided to continue fucking around with him. His heart was racing when he approached her, staring at her in an outburst of rage.

“Ugh, sh-shit,” Nathan mumbled as he shrieked, feeling another wave of throbbing pain in his head.

 _They know it!,_ he heard a voice say. _It wasn't a joke and you know it._ Stop! Someone needed to make this stop! Nathan held his breath as he began to stagger, trying to keep his eyes opened which suddenly felt like he hadn't sleep for years. Then a smirk, blue hair showing under the black cap, folded arms, screwed up eyes, looking at him in a mixture of curiosity and victory.

Before realizing, Nathan had been aiming his gun at Chloe, and her expression changed within seconds.

“Where'd you get that? … What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” she stuttered as Nathan had pushed her to the wall, putting his gun on her stomach.

“Don't EVER tell me what to do,” Nathan screamed as he punched against the wall, scaring Chloe to death, “I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!”

 _Fuck_ , his head felt like it was going to explode, like nitroglycerine, ready to blow up. Nathan swallowed, everything was so blurry, and he needed to concentrate on not passing out. His hands were sweaty and suddenly, his gun felt like a hot stone laying between his fingers. His head started spinning, and he noticed his hands shaking. _Shit_ , he was actually going to pass out …!

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs,” Chloe whispered, and Nathan tried to focus on her eyes, sparkling with fear as she felt Nathan burying pressing his gun more and more on her stomach. _This_ , Nathan thought, _this is it_. This magical expression you couldn't give me back then, you wee bitch. It welt so wrong yet so good, knowing that her life was laying in his hands, knowing that it was him who had the power to decide about her future, about her death. Nobody could control him, not Sean, not Blackwell, not Chloe. He looked at Chloe, tearing up as she begged for getting that gun away from him, holding her shaking hands up as if it would help, and it got quieter and quieter as the the noises started to fade away. God, this was so much better than a girl who was drugged, better than any photoshoot Mark and him had ever done.

“Ugh,” Chloe screamed, trying to free herself out of Nathan's grip, and suddenly, Nathan had woken up from his daydream, “get that gun away from me, psycho!”

The shot was loud and shrill, almost splitting Nathan's ear. He dazedly looked down, noticing warm blood flowing out of Chloe's stomach, floating the ground under her knees he had sank to.

“No …” he gasped, breathlessly looking at the girl he just had shot. His eyes widened in terror, but he couldn't move for his body was paralyzed with shock.

“N-no …!! FUCK!”

He fell on his knees, desperately shaking Chloe's lifeless body, crying and screaming her name.

“No, not again …! No, no, no!! No, Chloe! CHLOE! NO!!” Nathan cried, shouting her name with all his strength, but Chloe didn't move.

The blood was flowing out off her stomach like a waterfall, soaking Nathan and Chloe's clothes.

He had done it again. He had killed another girl. Nathan looked at his hands, which were stained with blood, hearing Rachel Amber's voice whispering into his ear.

“You killed her! You killed her, you're a murderer, who has two dead girls on his conscience.”

Then, Nathan breathlessly sank to the ground, realizing what was awaiting him, feeling the warm blood of the dead girl's corpse next to him and seeing Rachel Amber's dark gloomy look resting on him, judging him.

And the voices – the voices wouldn't stop.

*

“I'm going to ask you once,” the judge asked, looking at the photo of Rachel Amber who had been found in the junkyard, “considering you're under oath …”

Nathan looked to the seats of the court room, noticing that Sean wasn't there. He had been serious when he had said that he wouldn't come, wishing Nathan not to be his son.

“Did you kill Rachel Amber?”

Nathan took a deep breath, then he raised his head, looking directly into Mark's eyes. Mark, the only one who had come, his mentor, his best friend, his love. Nathan wouldn't see his friends ever again, wouldn't see Vic, wouldn't see Zach … or Warren.

But Mark would be there, like he had always been, and Nathan would do anything for him. Mark nodded lightly, then Nathan turned around, facing the judge.

“Yes,” Nathan said, and he knew he wouldn't be alone. Mark would be there, and with him, it would be okay.

 

_It was quiet in Arcadia Bay; young deers were grazing in a forest glade, and some whales were calmly swimming just above the surface, gliding through the ocean._

 

“I killed Rachel Amber.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody!
> 
> I've you've come this far, thank you so much for reading! :) This was “What Nathan Knew”, let me know if you liked it or nah! Also: If you've found some mistakes concerning grammar or the plot, feel free to tell me, then I can correct it :)
> 
> Some comments for my part: I've played LiS about three times now, and I could play it again any time. I just love this game more than anything, and I loved writing about Nathan and Mark's relationship. Nobody is just good or bad, and of course Nathan has his motives, too. I wanted to show that he's not just the bully, the antagonist, but a main character with a tragic background history, that deserves his own story. Sometimes, we just don't want to take a closer look to certain things because they frighten us. I think this is what made Nathan not see what was happening right in front of him: perhaps, he saw it all coming, but accepting it, seeing that Mark is so much more than the teacher who has sort of “adopted” Nathan, must hurt like hell.
> 
> Back when I had planned the plot, I had been quite fascinated by Mark, and I had toyed with the idea of writing a story that focuses on Nathan and Mark, having some kind of sexual affaire, where Nathan's deeply dependent on Mark. Maybe this could've worked as well, but the more I worked on my plot, the more the story somehow changed itself. Mark having sexual interest in Nathan just didn't feel right. I'm not saying that he's asexual or anything, but I just think that Mark, a psychopath, isn't interested in Nathan in person. For I wanted to be close to the original, I needed to create a Mark just as cold and calculating as the original Mark Jefferson. The only thing this man desires is a good shot and someone he can use and manipulate.
> 
> I've always been a fan of Grahamscott and Grahamfield (pretty classic, I know, but look how hard Warren tries to win Max!), so for me Nathan/Warren was what I wanted to go for. I would've loved writing about how Warren and him end up together, but this would've so not matched the original plot, and I also thought it would take the attention of what I actually wanted to describe: the weird relationship of Mark and Nathan.
> 
> While writing, I needed to do a little research on Nathan's favorite book “Moby Dick”, and I ended up reading it myself, haha. It's very philosophical and though I didn't understand everything, I recommend you reading it! ;)


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